


The path to destruction (it never smelled so sweet)

by darkbluebox



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Recovery, Soulmates, True Love's Kiss, exploring intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23087299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkbluebox/pseuds/darkbluebox
Summary: When Kravitz was a child, a Seer told him that he would be killed by True Love's Kiss.It was only when he met Taako that this became a problem.
Relationships: Barry Bluejeans/Lup, Kravitz & Found Family, Kravitz/Taako (The Adventure Zone), Lup & Taako (The Adventure Zone)
Comments: 145
Kudos: 232





	1. The Talk

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this entire & completed fic sitting in my files for months waiting for me to drum up the courage to post. Here goes nothing!
> 
> Chapters will get longer as the story progresses; think of this as a prologue.

It’s on their third date that Kravitz decides it’s time for the Talk.

Neverwinter Opera House is the crowning jewel of the city, a little extravagant for Kravitz’s tastes but perfect for Taako. They watch the dwarven bard light the room with her voice, literally, glowing crystal gems swirling and sparkling around them like snowfall, fed by the power of her voice. Taako has taken the opportunity to dress up – although in Kravitz’s opinion, Taako is always dressed up, his wardrobe endlessly elegant no matter how little effort he insists goes into his outfits. Taako has been leaning in against him all evening, hand on Kravitz’s arm as they wander the lamplit-streets in a post-opera haze, knee pressing against his beneath the table of a restaurant that “isn’t half bad,” a glowing review by Taako’s standards. Kravitz is enjoying the new points of contact between them, perhaps too much. Taako seems so eager to prove that Kravitz’s cool skin isn’t off-putting in the slightest despite his initial surprise, which is painfully sweet of him.

It’s painful in other ways too. The closer Taako pushes in, the more Kravitz is reminded of the Talk looming over him. It’s always the way; the better things are going, the more it weighs on him. Truthfully, though, there’s no other choice; the longer Kravitz waits, the more pain inflicted later.

“We need to talk,” Kravitz says, stopping Taako as he leans in for a goodnight kiss at the door to his quarters. Taako’s ears immediately press back against his head defensively. His smile turns a little glassy.

“Yeah. Sure, shoot,” he says, stepping back. “I get it. You’re not feeling it, that’s cool, I can’t be everyone’s cup of key lime go-gurt.”

“No,” Kravitz steps forward as Taako steps back, closing the distance. “No, you misunderstand me, Taako, I’m – _you’re_ wonderful. I’ve had a wonderful time with you.”

Taako laughs. “Don’t need the pity talk, my dude, if that’s what this is.”

“Taako,” Kravitz shakes his head. Tentatively, he reaches for Taako’s hand and takes it, running his thumb over the ridges of his knuckles. “I don’t want to break up with you. I like you _far_ too much. _I'm_ the problem here.” Kravitz fidgets under Taako’s calculating gaze. He’s never been good at this part. He’s never been good at _any_ of it, if his track record has anything to say for itself.

“ _It’s not you, it’s me?_ Is that really the line you’re pulling?” Taako’s eyebrow twitches upwards. “If you tell me you’re actually married or some shit, I’m going to punch you.”

“No. No, what do you think I-? No.” Kravitz shuffles his feet. Candlenights is some way behind them now, but the prime material plane has yet to shake off the last of the winter chill. Kravitz isn’t bothered by it, per se, but the difference in temperature still strikes him each time he steps from the weather-less Astral plane into this one. He watches, fascinated, as a huff of Taako’s breath spirals through the air before fading into nothing. “It’s a question of safety.”

“Get to the point bones, some of us have places to be this century,” Taako says. His tone is snappy, but his ears are pressed back against his head, his arms wrapped tensely around his stomach. Worried. He’s swallowed in Kravitz’s heavy black coat, which is just a little too long for him, and if Kravitz still had a working heart it would be melting at the sight.

“I’m cursed,” Kravitz says at last. “Or as good as. When I was a child my mother took me to a seer, as was tradition in those days. The seer predicted that if I were ever to… that one day, I might…” Kravitz swallows back his panic, puts it as simply as he can. “She predicted that I will be killed by a kiss.”

Taako draws back, eyes flicking over Kravitz. Kravitz waits, picking nervously at the buttons of his shirt with his free hand. Taako’s hand is a little clammy in his.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Bones, but you’re already dead,” Taako says at last.

“Yes,” Kravitz clears his throat. “But there’s dead and then there’s _dead_. My soul left the mortal plane, but never passed into the Astral Sea. I’m somewhere in-between. There’s still enough of me left to kill, certainly.”

“So, no kissing? Ever?”

“I understand that it’s a lot.” Kravitz bows his head. “If it’s too much for you, there would be no shame – no hard feelings, as it were, if you wanted to walk away.”

Taako blinks, then laughs, dropping Kravitz’s hand to steady himself. “Phew. Phew-wee, gods, no, that’s all? That’s really all there is?” He glances up, sees Kravitz’s confusion, and snakes his hand through his arm. “I thought you were gonna say you were a mass-murderer on the run or sumthin’. You call that baggage? Kissing ain’t anything, ‘kay? Don’t worry about it.”

Kravitz doesn’t let out a sigh of relief, but some knot of nerves unspools inside him as though he had. It had been a deal breaker before, and he had really, _really_ wanted this relationship not to go the same way. He smiles, placing a hand on the arm linked with his and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, Taako,” he says.

“Didn’t do nothin’.” Taako shoves him playfully. They say their goodnights, and Taako slips away into his quarters, where Kravitz can hear Merle and Magnus bickering.

He smiles to himself, flexing his hand as he feels the residual tingle of the elf’s warm skin against it. Then he summons his scythe and sweeps away into the night.


	2. Baggage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taako has a few follow-up questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for innuendo/discussions of sex

It’s months before Taako brings up the prophecy again.

They’re a wonderfully peaceful few months, all things considered. Mercifully few necromancers to chase down, which one more than one occasion has given the Raven Queen cause to dismiss Kravitz early, humming with quiet contentment when she learns of Kravitz’s plans for the evening. _The material plane is doing you a world of good, Kravitz_ , she whispers in his mind. _These days, you seem quite lively_. She laughs. At least, that’s what Kravitz believes it to be. The sound itself is more like a terrific gust of wind that sweeps through the halls of her opal palace in a long, soaring echo. After so many millennia, however, Kravitz knows her meaning. That and her sense of humour.

Taako, too, seems to be enjoying peace of some kind. Not to say that the moonbase is peaceful – it is, as ever, full of bustling mortals searching tirelessly for the next threat to existence itself. Nor is Taako’s apartment peaceful, not in the traditional sense. His flatmates bang and barge from room to room, carrying out entire conversations while standing on different floors, affectionately bickering over dirty dishes and borrowed weaponry. But Taako, at least, seems to be at peace with himself. Kravitz knows him well enough to know that it’s been a long time – if ever – since the elf has known this kind of calm.

Tonight, they’re bundled up on Taako’s bed, surrounded by more blankets and pillows than Kravitz believes can really be owned by a single elf. They’re into their third hour of binging Fantasy _Queer Eye_ , and Taako’s head is resting on Kravitz’s chest, his arm lying across Kravitz’s stomach.

“Do you like cats?” he asks out of nowhere. Kravitz tilts his head to one side, considering.

“I don’t mind them, no. They’re not usually so keen on me.” Taako shifts his head to look up at him, so he elaborates. “They can sense the whole death vibe. Makes them a bit skittish.”

“If I was living somewhere, like a proper house that wasn’t on the moon, I think I’d want a cat. Maybe a whole bunch of cats. What’s the name for a group of cats? A herd?”

“A clowder,” replies Kravitz. Half of his attention is still on the show, where a dwarf is sharing tips on beard stylings. “Or a glaring.”

“That’s the shit,” Taako replies. He shifts again, pressing his body closer to Kravitz’s, and even through the layers of clothing Kravitz can feel the warmth seeping through him. “I was also kind of wondering,” he continues, and Kravitz’s eyes snap away from the show, because he’s well attuned by now to Taako’s forced-nonchalance voice and this is it. “I was kind of wondering about your curse.”

Taako’s head is still on his chest, which means Kravitz does everything he can to keep himself from tensing. He has to be careful not to betray any discomfort, because the last thing he wants is for Taako to feel like he can’t talk to him about this.

He’s been so good with Kravitz the last few months, gentle and cautious in a way that no one else has been. They hold hands wherever they walk, fingers laced together, and at the end of each night Taako cups his cheek and looks into Kravitz’s eyes so gently that Kravitz thinks the sensation may melt him. They’ve danced together in some of the most majestic ballrooms Faerun can offer, Taako’s hand on Kravitz’s waist and his head resting on Kravitz’s shoulder as he lets Kravitz spin them gently across the floor.

For a moment, an ice-cold shard of glass slips into Kravitz’s chest as he wonders if Taako has grown tired of stopping at handholding. He wouldn’t have been the first.

“I was just wondering how specific the prophecy got with it, like, what the exact wording was,” Taako continues, snapping Kravitz back to the cosy caress of their reality. Taako’s in his arms, and he isn’t going anywhere. “Like, you said _if I kiss someone_ , but does that mean, if someone kisses you, on the cheek or whatever, it still counts? Also, what _exactly_ is their definition of a kiss, because, like, I can press my lips up against a three-bean burrito before I deep-throat that motherfucker but that doesn’t count as a kiss, right? Like if I just grazed my lips against your knuckles or whatever would that still-?”

Kravitz tenses. He can’t help it. Taako falls silent, moving back but leaving his hand pressed reassuringly against Kravitz’s chest. “Hey, hey, bone daddy. It’s all cool, don’t worry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“No, don’t apologise. They’re good questions.” Kravitz reaches for him, hand sliding across Taako’s cheek and up into his hair, which is tumbling loosely around his shoulders, a rare and privileged sight. Taako leans into the touch, humming. “To my knowledge, it works the same whether I’m the one kissing or the one being kissed. Sorry to disappoint.”

He can’t tell Taako the prophecy’s exact wording yet and prays his explanation alone will do enough to satisfy his curiosity. Thus far Taako has handled it all better than Kravitz could ever have hoped, but there’s parts of the prediction that are just too heavy for him. It’s still too soon by far.

Taako makes a dismissive snorting noise, letting his eyes slide shut and leaning the weight of his head into Kravitz’s arm. One of the advantages of a constructed body – Kravitz can hold his arm like this indefinitely without worrying about muscle fatigue, supporting his beautiful, drowsy boyfriend until the end of time if he so wishes.

“As for the precise definition of a kiss, I’m sorry to disappoint. It’s not the kind of thing you can work out with trial-and-error.”

Taako snorts, taking Kravitz’s arm and wrapping it around his shoulder as he resettles on his chest. “Surely you have some idea.”

Kravitz shrugs apologetically. “It’s a pain in the arse. I’m sorry.”

Taako flicks him in the chest. “Now look who’s wrongly apologising.”

Kravitz chuckles, and for a few minutes they fall back into companionable silence. Kravitz is just letting himself be pulled back into the show’s events when Taako pipes up once again. “I was just thinking about the possibilities, really. Of what we can and can’t do.”

“Possibilities,” Kravitz says, half listening.

“Well, like you told me, it’s a question of safety.” Taako sighs, pauses for a beat, then says, quite deliberately, “I wouldn’t want to accidently kill you with a blowjob, for example.”

Kravitz jumps, splutters, coughs a few times with lungs he doesn’t have, and finally says, “Oh.”

“So, like, does that count? Because that involves my lips _for sure_. On you. Around you, I guess. You know how it goes”

Yes, Kravitz knows how it goes. Well, he can picture how it goes. He can’t stop picturing it, to be frank.

His very inhuman body is starting to do something very, very human, and it’s only a matter of time before Taako notices. “I – I wouldn’t say that’s dangerous, no,” he says, swallowing. He rearranges his position in the bed, pulling some of the blankets that had slipped off, suddenly grateful for their ridiculous number. “I don’t think that would qualify as a kiss by anyone’s definition.”

“You don’t think?” Taako sits abruptly upright, causing the blankets to slide away once more. “How can you not be sure, unless…” He cuts himself off. “Wait. You’ve never…?”

“Well,” says Kravitz, avoiding eye-contact. “Not as such, no.”

“Holy shit,” murmurs Taako.

“Well, there’s no need to be like that about it.”

“No, I mean… I didn’t mean it like that.” Taako is staring at Kravitz with something like awe. “This is… this is a big deal for you, isn’t it? This. Us.”

Kravitz shakes his head. “I don’t have the kind of job that’s good for meeting new people. Unless those people are looking to remove my head from my body, in which case, I have the best job for meeting new people. And when I _do_ meet the less-violent types…” Kravitz paused in his rambling. “The kissing baggage is a bit off-putting, apparently.”

“Baggage? It isn’t baggage!” Taako says, suddenly outraged, and Kravitz doesn’t understand why. “It’s not even anything! How can people-?!” He cuts himself off suddenly, deflating. “I’m sorry. You don’t… You deserve better.”

Kravitz swallows. Something settles in his chest, something he didn’t even know was out of place. “To answer your question,” he says after a pause, “yes, Taako. You’re a big deal to me.”

Taako’s ears prick upwards in delight, a deep flush spreading from one freckled cheek to the other across the bridge of his nose. He takes Kravitz’s hand and holds it in both of his, pulling it in against his chest and squeezing. Kravitz knows he doesn’t have the words, but he hears them loud and clear, like translating the echoes of an ancient Goddess as they bounce through the endless caverns of a forgotten kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coronavirus cancelled my classes time to post update


	3. Workout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, this has... *checks notes* no actual effect on the plot-line whatsoever! None! Zero!
> 
> Have some self-indulgent.... whatever this is.
> 
> Content warning for innuendo and sexual content (waist up)

Three weeks later, Kravitz arrives in Taako’s quarters just as Taako is returning from training. There’s a sheen of sweat dancing across his pale blue skin as he pulls a loose shirt over his head, groaning a little with the effort. “Everything _aches_.”

“Fascinating.” Kravitz watches. It isn’t subtle. “What does that feel like?”

“Dick,” Taako replies, lobbing an empty water bottle at his head. “Even your magic bod would be all hot and sticky after three rounds against Team Sweet Flips.”

“You’d love to see that,” Kravitz says. This time he isn’t quick enough to dodge the sweatbands, which bounce off his chest before tumbling to the floor.

“You’d just look funny, in your suit and all.”

“Why would I be wearing my suit?”

Taako shrugs. “I’ve never seen you in anything else. I assumed that you were glued into your three-piece at birth.”

“Okay. Imagine I wore other clothes. How would you have me dress?”

Taako considers for a moment. A shit-eating grin spreads across his face. “I wouldn’t.”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Have you dressed.”

Something hot twists and curls in Kravitz’s gut. Taako watches him, triumphant. Something else flares up in Kravitz at that; he’s always been a little too competitive for his own good.

He smiles, quirks an eyebrow, shrugs off the suit jacket and begins to unbutton his shirt.

“Oh,” says Taako. The smirk falls away from his face, replaced with something intent. Focused.

He steps forward as Kravitz lets his shirt fall from his shoulders, his eyes hungry. He places a hand on Kravitz’s chest, and Kravitz shivers. He’s used to Taako’s warmth by now, but coming fresh from a workout has left his skin noticeably warmer than usual, and the contact sends an unexpected jolt through him. The pressure increases, and before he knows it Kravitz has been pushed down onto Taako’s bed, spread out under his boyfriend’s warm gaze.

Taako cups his cheeks first, a reassuringly familiar gesture before his hands slide downwards, mapping out the lines of Kravitz’s muscles and stroking smoothly over his chest and down towards his abdomen. His hands are warm and steady as Taako alternates between smoothing the tension from his muscles and letting the tips of his fingernails scrape across his skin. It’s a little ticklish, but as Taako’s movements become more confident the light scratch sends a bolt of heat through Kravitz’s system. He bites back a low moan, and his hand moves of its own accord, cupping Taako’s cheek before moving up to thumb at the soft flesh of his ear which flicks back and forth between his fingers.

“Fuck,” Taako says under his breath. Kravitz is inclined to agree. Taako spends a few more minutes running his hands over Kravitz’s chest as though committing him to memory, and every so often his fingers slide up to brush over a nipple, which invariably earns him a twitch in response.

He looks up at Kravitz at last, swallows. “Okay. I’m going to do something. If you don’t like it, if it makes you uncomfortable – you can stop me, okay?”

Kravitz nods. He isn’t sure he’s capable of speech at the moment. He smooths his free hand up and down Taako’s exposed back in answer, playing with the knots of tension in his spine. His fingers land on one of the dark bruises left by the day’s training, and he doesn’t miss the way Taako’s entire body shivers at the pressure.

Taako leans into him, lips parting, and a reflexive jolt of panic shoots through Kravitz. Then it’s washed away by pleasure, Kravitz’s mouth falling open as Taako licks a long, steady stripe up his chest. “Fuck. Taako-!”

Taako presses a finger to Kravitz’s lips, silencing him. A million curses burn away in Kravitz’s throat as Taako returns his attention to Kravitz’s chest, and this time it’s the graze of teeth nipping up and down his torso. After minutes of teasing that pass like an eternity, Taako’s tongue darts out and swirls around his nipple.

Kravitz can’t hold back the noise that tears from his throat. He jerks up, following Taako’s mouth until Taako pushes him back into the bed. His triumphant smile has returned.

“Not bad, Bones.” He runs his thumb across Kravitz’s bottom lip reverently.

“Not bad yourself,” he replies, hoping that it’s in the right language, or failing that, is in a tone Taako will understand regardless. He trusts the sounds coming out of his mouth about as much as he trusts himself to walk in a straight line.

Taako winks, smooths his hand across Kravitz’s flushed chest, and turns to head for the shower. He’s in there for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is such a ridiculous chapter I almost removed it all together... please tell me I made the right choice.
> 
> Will try to get the next chapter out this weekend too to make up for the length. Longer ones are coming, I swear.


	4. Undoing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Day of Story and Song.

There’s a flash of light, the shriek of planes of reality colliding and merging, and suddenly Kravitz is standing at the centre of a sea of transmuted shimmering sapphire, still steaming with the heat of a transmutation spell big enough to punch a hole in the universe. Literally.

And there’s Taako.

Everything fades to nothing as he moves to take the elf in his arms. Taako’s laughing and gripping onto him like he’s the anchor in the storm, and if Kravitz had a beating heart it would have stopped then and there.

Then Taako leans into him, and the incurable ball of terror clenches in Kravitz’s chest because this is the moment, isn’t it? Kravitz has read more trashy elven romantic novels than he will ever, ever admit to, and it’s a scene that’s played out a million times before his eager eyes. The trials, the separation, the terror, the destruction, and then the joyful reunion in the heat of battle. This is the part of the novel where the couple kisses.

Honestly, if this is how Kravitz is going to die, he’s okay with it. Taako is here, in his arms, _safe_. His.

But Taako’s touch is careful as he takes Kravitz’s head in hand and presses their foreheads together, his eyes closed. He feels the warm rush of Taako’s breath against his skin as his other hand comes to rest on Kravitz’s chest, perfect and grounding. It’s the most gentle, intimate gesture Kravitz could have imagined, and when they break apart at last Kravitz’s head is spinning.

Then Taako introduces him to his sister, and they fight the hunger, and they save the universe. All told, it’s quite a busy day.

It’s some time before the two find a quiet moment to themselves. The revelries on the moon base have roared for three days and three nights without interruption, and they show no sign of slowing as the clock on Taako’s bedside table ticks into day four. Taako has spent almost every second of the past few days at Lup’s side, visibly tense whenever she leaves his line of sight, as though he’s afraid that he’ll turn around to find nothing but an empty space and a hurried note holding another promise unfulfilled. But little by little, he’s improving.

“I’m sorry,” says Taako as he lies shaking in Kravitz’s arms. The clock on the bedside table reads 4:21. They went to bed some hours prior, but Taako has yet to sleep a wink. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be – I can’t. I can’t just follow her around forever, you know? I have to be able to do this. I _did_ do this. I didn’t know I was doing it, but I…”

“Deep breaths,” says Kravitz, rubbing slow circles into Taako’s back as he lies pressed into his chest. “It’s okay, Taako. It’s okay.”

“Yeah.” Taako’s voice rumbles through him. His grip tightens. “Yeah. It will be.”

As Taako re-adapts to having his sister around, and then to _not_ having her around all the time, Kravitz becomes the rock to lean on, solid and steady through the trauma of undoing a decade of desolation and a century of dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay from this point on full-length chapters only, I SWEAR  
> Time for cha boy to get himself some RECOVERY


	5. Reformed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kravitz takes a hit.

The litch catches Kravitz full on in the chest, and he knows without so much as looking that it’s bad. The horrified expressions on Lup and Barry’s faces tell a similar story, and Kravitz quietly curses himself as he falls to his knees. He had been trying to ease them in gently with some straightforward fugitive cases, open and shut, and dying horribly in front of them at the hands of a furious half-mad litch isn’t at the top of his to-do list.

“Well, bugger,” says Kravitz, work accent automatically in place even in face of the pain. The words come out slurred, as whatever energy the creature hit them with works its way through him. “Looks like I’ll be off, chaps. Might you fancy wrapping this up for me while I-?”

And then he’s gone.

He’s walked them both through the drill enough times that he isn’t too worried on behalf of his newest recruits. The litch was a violent one, of course, but had caught him out mostly with luck. Perhaps this death is the push he needs to back off and let his recruits work without his scrupulous gaze – he tries not to be too critical, but he is, at heart, a perfectionist, and only hopes his new co-workers… _friends_ , will forgive him for it.

It’s becoming more and more difficult to hold any string of thoughts together, and for a while Kravitz simply drifts, formless and at peace.

Eventually, as the restorative energy builds and coalesces into form, Kravitz blearily regains consciousness. He’s still rather groggy, would perhaps say ‘hungover’ if he could still remember what a real hangover felt like, and quite disconcerted as he blinks at the now-sunny field that he had been standing in what felt like moments ago. There are a few patches of scorched grass to prove that the fight had not been a hallucination, but Kravitz has neither the time nor energy for any further detective work.

He cuts a misshapen portal into the air and tumbles through into the first and only place he can think of.

There’s a yelp and several voices shouting as he stumbles into Taako’s (and Merle’s, and Magnus’, and functionally around a dozen others’) sitting room, and he tries to catch individual words, but hearing is often one of the last of his senses to come back.

Touch still seems to be out, as well; he can see Taako’s hands cupping his face, pale blue accents at the periphery of his vision, but there’s no sensation yet, just gentle pressure. He thinks he catches sight of Lup, gives her a shaky thumbs-up, but is quickly distracted by the effort to stay upright as Taako wraps himself around him as though he’s trying to squeeze him to death. Which would be more than a little inconvenient, given the circumstances.

His hearing slides back into place in time to catch the end of a tirade of curses in every language Kravitz knows, and then some. When he speaks, his voice is a little horse, but better than he had expected. “How long was I out?”

“Three days!” Taako punches his arm. “Three days, asshole!” Then he takes Kravitz’s head in his hands again and presses their foreheads together. It’s the spark of energy Kravitz needs to wrap his arms around Taako, smoothing a calming hand up and down his back.

“I’ll have you know it takes a lot of effort to look this good,” he jokes, and he hopes the shaky huff of breath that leaves Taako’s mouth is laughter.

“Okay, I’m done waiting my turn, _move_ ,” someone interrupts, and then to Kravitz’s surprise, Lup is throwing her arms around him too. “Can’t say I was a fan of that move, boss. Maybe you could, uh, not fuckin’ die on us next time?”

“I’ll endeavour to do so,” Kravitz says, smiling a little woozily. He’s touched by Lup’s welcome – he should really have realised sooner that the twins’ affection is a package deal – but he must admit that they’re not doing wonders for his swimming double-vision, and the longer he stands the more the elves before him multiply.

“May I…” he puts out a hand to steady himself, and thankfully it lands on the real Taako’s shoulder. “Make use of your bed for a few…” he winces, pinches the bridge of his nose, “…centuries?”

He doesn’t quite catch the affirmative which follows, and the next thing he remembers is coming to in Taako’s bed. The room is dark, and Taako has pulled up a chair to rest at his bedside, his chin drooping onto his chest, his eyes closed.

Kravitz reaches out and takes his hand, marvelling at Taako’s smooth, soft skin as he runs his thumb back and forth over the knuckles. His sense of touch is still coming and going, one moment numb and the next overwhelming. Taako’s hand twitches in his, and when Kravitz looks up his eyes are open, looking at Kravitz as though he’s made of glass.

It’s been a long time since anyone saw the Grim Reaper as fragile. It’s almost enough to make Kravitz laugh, but the edge of pain which accompanies Taako’s gaze holds him back.

“If you’re going to sleep, you might as well do it here,” Kravitz murmurs, indicating the vast expanse of Taako’s bed which remains unoccupied.

“I’m not tired,” Taako says, and punctuates his point with a barely stifled yawn.

Kravitz says nothing, just watches him for several moments, the corner of his lip twitching.

Taako shakes his head, runs a hand through his tousled hair. It’s a shade off its usual golden hue, and after a moment Kravitz realises that Taako has dropped his glamour. “Are you…” Taako begins, trailing off as he struggles to form the words. “Are you going to disappear again?”

Kravitz squeezes Taako’s hand. “I’m out of the woods for now, love.”

Taako blushes to the roots of his hair, and something in Kravitz’s chest stutters and trips as he tries to remember if he’s used that particular pet-name for Taako before. Taako’s other hand is picking at the seam of his skirt, tugging a thread loose until it starts to unravel. Kravitz squeezes again, recapturing his attention.

“It’s an occupational hazard. I won’t be making a habit of it.”

Taako lets out a small huff of air, and this time Kravitz pulls. Taako rolls into the bed without resistance, curling himself into a ball as soon as he’s under the covers, nose-to-nose with Kravitz.

“I will promise you this, though,” Kravitz says, “No matter how many times I disappear, I will always come back to you.”

For a moment he wonders if Taako is going to goof it off, because Taako doesn’t really _do_ heavy, and right now Kravitz’s words are heavier than the sun.

Taako places his hand over Kravitz’s mouth, and Kravitz is ready to laugh, to nudge him off until he sees the look in Taako’s eyes. Taako leans in, eyes sliding closed, and presses his lips to the back of his own hand.

The sensation lights up Kravitz’s mind as his body tips back into oversensitivity once again. The warmth of Taako’s hand, the pressure of his lips, the gentle thrum of blood through the thin layer of skin, Kravitz can _feel_ it in wonderful, intimate detail, and he won’t admit to the quiet noise he makes as Taako presses into him, but he feels about ready to die all over again.

It’s the small hours of the morning before Taako finally drifts off again, his head burrowed into Kravitz’s neck as night ticks back towards day. Just before sleep takes him, he murmurs something into the skin of Kravitz’s neck.

“Say that again, love?”

“Lup was asking about, uh. She noticed today, when you got back, and also a few other times, that we never… Is it okay if I tell her ’bout your curse?”

Kravitz runs a hand through Taako’s hair in a slow, steady rhythm, surprised. “Yes. Yes, of course, I assumed you already had.” 

“Nah,” Taako replies, words slurring with sleep. “Private, right? Wouldn’t want to…”

Then he’s asleep.

Kravitz holds Taako in his arms, turning their conversation over in his mind as he waits for the dawn of another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my pining gay soul really jumps out in this one huh
> 
> Wish I could commit to a regular update schedule for this but lockdown has officially destroyed my ability to tell the days apart.


	6. Gogurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kravitz adjusts to his new body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, this chap isn't for kids. Which I say only so the babies out there know how cool they are for reading. What's up, you cool baby?  
> (Seriously tho,,,adult content ahead)

Re-forming after death is like moving into a new house. There’s an uncomfortable stage between arriving and living where the plumbing has yet to be set up, nobody remembers which box the forks ended up in and the cupboards are still in shambles. Kravitz has to literally get comfortable in his own skin once more, break the form in, as it were. Everything feels new again, his eyes registering sunlight as just a little brighter, his ears picking out the background ticking of a clock or the hum of the moon base’s engines that he had previously tuned out. He navigates the following days like a drunken calf, stumbling from room to room, overwhelmed by his oversensitivity.

There’s pros and cons to his new arrangement. In the past, he would slink off into the Astral plane to reform, cradled by the silence and the lapping of the endless ocean around him. But this had always been a slow process, and it was easy for a drowsy and discorporate Kravitz to stagnate, unencumbered by whatever disaster had led him there in the first place. Recovering on the material plane is another matter entirely, full of movement and noise and people and all the other little quirks of life that the Astral plane lacked. But there is also love, and people who love him, and that pulls him through quicker than tea chases away the chill of a cold day. 

Merle and Magnus are off base – whether willingly or because Taako told them to be, Kravitz can only guess. It leaves Taako’s quarters mercifully peaceful, and Kravitz can handle the occasional clatter as Taako bustles from one room to the other, especially when it comes with the reassurance of his presence.

After three days, Kravitz is comfortable enough to be up and about, following Taako from room to room like a lost puppy and watching with fascination as Taako carries out the mundane domestic tasks that are part and parcel of his life.

“Taste-test these, will you?” Taako all but pushes the biscuit into Kravitz’s mouth, but Kravitz catches his hand in the nick of time. He takes the biscuit from Taako himself, still warm from the oven and crumbling a little between his fingers. He’s possibly the worst test-subject in Faerun when it comes to food, considering he rarely eats and is predisposed to adore anything Taako makes anyway, but Taako knows this well. It’s an excuse to involve Kravitz in his delicate and intricate baking process, which Kravitz leaps at the chance to take.

It’s the first thing he’s bothered to eat since his resurrection, and Kravitz almost faints on the spot. He can taste every individual ingredient, overlapping and coalescing into a symphony on his tongue. He lets out a guttural sound as the biscuit melts in his mouth.

“Alright, jeez, no need for that,” Taako smacks him gently with an oven glove. He thinks Kravitz is _joking_.

“Is that – Is that,” Kravitz says through a mouthful of food, “lemon zest? It’s, ha, tingling. And, oh, hmm, a spice. Cinnamon? Yes, wow.”

Taako abandons the oven glove on the bench in order to watch Kravtiz’s reaction with a bemused expression. “Babe, I’m flattered, but you don’t need to pretend to wig out about my baking, like, I don’t know who taught you that this is a normal reaction, but-”

Kravitz swallows at last, and it takes a moment of serious restraint to stop himself from horking down the rest of it in one go. “Taako. I’m oversensitive to everything right now. My taste buds are going _insane_.” His control gives out, and before he knows it, he’s left with nothing but crumbs in his hands. He lets his eyes slide shut as he savours the taste, before remembering that his boyfriend is standing in front of him, and behind his boyfriend sits a whole _tray_ of the same cooling biscuits.

His eyes snap open and he steps forward purposefully, but Taako meets him in the middle, his gaze suddenly intent. There’s something else behind it too, a little harder to read.

Kravitz licks his lips. “Dear, do you think I could perhaps-?”

“Everything?” Taako asks in a curious yet strangely neutral voice. Kravitz raises an eyebrow questioningly, and he clarifies. “You’re oversensitive to everything?”

“Yes. Why-?” Kravitz begins to ask, but never gets to finish his question.

Taako brings his hand up to Kravitz’s cheek and cups it. Kravitz falls still in an instant, leaning into the support of Taako’s palm like a marionette with its strings cut. He can feel every bump and callous of Taako’s skin, the faint ridges of scrapes and scars just as likely to be from cooking as battle, the quick pulse of hot blood seeping through him. Needless to say, Kravitz has forgotten about the cookies.

Taako steps forward, forcing Kravitz to back up until the kitchen counter meets him at his back. There’s a dozen meanings or more in Taako’s gaze as his eyes flick slowly up, down, up. Something cold, flat, analytical studies Kravitz’s reaction as though he’s an experiment under a microscope. A layer below that, there’s a twitch of amusement, brought on by the joy of watching Kravitz squirm. Below that, something hot and heavy and wordless and wanting that calls out to Kravitz like a siren song. Below that…

Something Kravitz has yet to find words for.

He falls into Taako’s touch wordlessly, desperately. It’s like a man dying of thirst being thrown into a saltless sea, and Kravitz may be drowning but he’d do so a thousand times to quench this drought.

They’re in bed. It’s sudden, not in the romantic time-blurring-together sense, but rather more literally, as in, the Taako-burning-a-spell-slot-to-get-them-both-comfortably-horizontal-as-quickly-as-possible sense. Somewhere along the way Kravitz has also lost most of the few layers of clothing he had bothered to throw on himself, although this development can be attributed to more mundane methods.

Taako places one hand on Kravitz’s chest, the single point of contact burning between them as he pushes Kravitz flat on his back. It tingles, and Kravitz is beginning to panic, because if he can’t handle _this_ then how is he going to-

Taako stills, grinding Kravitz’s train of thought to a stop. He realises belatedly that he has tensed up like he would before a sparring match. He makes a conscious effort to let his limbs melt into the mattress, looking up at Taako with what he prays is the right mix of pleading and agreement to get what he wants.

He knows the expression has misfired when Taako removes the hand from his chest. “It’s too much,” he says too flatly to be a question.

“No,” Kravitz says. He reaches for Taako’s retreating hand and catches it in his own, threading their fingers together before placing their hands on the mattress by his head. The action pulls Taako in until he’s over Kravitz, caging him with his body. “Please.”

“Gogurt,” Taako says abruptly.

For a moment, Kravitz is at a loss for words. “Gogurt?”

“Safeword. If it’s too much, y’know, just say the word, and we stop.”

Kravitz weighs the pros and cons of questioning Taako’s word choice, before deciding that the beautiful and scantily clad elf above him is always going to come first.

“And what’s the word I use to get you to stop talking?” Kravitz asks, grinning roguishly despite his breathlessness.

“Shut up,” Taako says. Kravitz doesn’t get the chance to find out if it’s an instruction or a response when the next thing he knows is Taako’s sharp teeth scraping the skin of his neck.

Kravitz yelps, body going rigid, but the hand which has tangled itself in Taako’s hair of its own accord leaves no doubt that they won’t be needing the safeword tonight.

Every nerve in Kravitz’s body is already tingling, raw, like a sunburn under his skin, but that doesn’t mean Taako is going easy on him. Soon there’s a trail of marks running from just behind his ear and down to his clavicle, bruises nipped and sucked into skin that isn’t even _supposed_ to bruise. Kravitz could will them away in the blink of an eye, but the idea is unthinkable when he can instead spend the next few days going about his business with a scattering of reminders hidden below his collar.

Taako is downright vicious as he rakes his fingers down Kravitz’s chest, his nails leaving ghostly trails behind them. Normally the sensation would be a little ticklish, but right now it’s right on the knife-edge between pleasure and pain. Kravitz rocks into the touch, refusing to be left behind in the moment as he catches a handful of Taako’s hair in one hand and pulls.

The reflexive bite of panic that he’s too rough is extinguished by the way Taako melts into it, following the movement of Kravitz’s hand to leave the skin of his neck exposed.

Kravitz flips them over, tangling them in the soft sheets around them that only add to the overwhelming waves of sensation that crest and crash like the rise and fall of Taako’s chest. He hesitates, and Taako shivers as his breath brushes his skin.

The moment stretches into a lifetime and falls into an eternity. Kravitz is one of only a few who has any real concept of what eternity is, so when he thinks that he could spend the rest of time caught in this moment, it’s meant with full understanding of all it would entail.

Fortunately, Taako is there to pull him back. He nudges Kravitz with his leg, mutters something impatient – maybe worried – that the blood rushing in Kravitz’s ears prevents him from hearing, and then Taako’s patience wears out. He pulls Kravitz into him, grinding their hips together. It’s an abrupt, unsteadying sensation which Kravitz is unprepared for, and a rush of air hisses from his chest as he presses into the feeling. His mind is lighting up like a candlenights tree, but all he can think of is more.

Taako’s train of thought is running on parallel lines to his, fingernails leaving deep imprints on Kravitz’s back as he pulls him closer, harder, more. It’s another shock of sensation swirling through Kravitz, searing through his nerves like wildfire, and he groans his _yes_ into the skin of Taako’s neck.

It’s not identifiable in any language, but Taako seems to understand as he drags his nails down Kravitz’s back, leaving what Kravitz is sure will be wonderfully telling marks for him to admire in a mirror the next morning. They reach his hips, fidget a little with the waistband of Kravitz’s underpants, and a moment later the last of Kravitz’s clothes are being tossed to the floor like yesterday’s papers. Taako mutters a curse as he smooths a hand down Kravitz’s abdomen before letting it come to rest on his waist, rubbing small circles into his hipbone with his thumb. Kravitz puts his weight onto one hand and uses the other to cup Taako’s cheek, mimicking the movement as he strokes his thumb across Taako’s smooth skin. His eyes are gentler than Kravitz has ever seen them as Taako raises his spare hand to his lips.

Taako presses a kiss to his own fingers, then presses those fingers to Kravitz’s lips.

Kravitz tries harder than he ever has at anything to hold back the reflexive flinch, to dismantle the defences built into his soul. It’s not a kiss. It won’t count. It won’t kill him.

No matter what he does, there will always be a part of him that’s terrified of this.

Taako lets the hand drop down, and Kravitz is so wrapped up in the tangle of his thoughts that he doesn’t notice where the hand is going until it’s on him.

Taako allows him a moment to breathe, to adjust. Under normal circumstances, it would be a lot. In this new and fragile form, it’s as though Kravitz’s whole universe has narrowed down to the points of contact between them. He can feel every bump and ridge of Taako’s callouses, feel the beat of his pulse, the rush of heat seeping through his skin. It’s lighting his whole body on fire, and that’s _before_ Taako starts to move.

“Taako,” he says, no real thought attached. If, in that moment, his soul was ground to dust and scattered like sand, it would be the only word left in the scattered remains of his soul worth knowing.

Taako locks eyes with him, gaze dark and hungry, and starts moving Kravitz through his hand, long, slow, heavy. Every second feels like a century, and the heat and intensity of it are so strong that Kravitz nearly loses his mind then and there. He buries his face in Taako’s neck, lets his response vibrate through his skin. He loses track of himself for… he has no idea how long. The rhythm of Taako’s movements are his only anchor to this reality, steady, forceful, holding him there, balancing on the line between not enough and too much with the practiced ease of a tightrope walker.

One of Kravitz’s hands makes its way downwards of its own accord, finds where Taako is pressing against him, huffs in irritation when he finds Taako’s boxers still in place. It’s a terrible oversight on his part. He cups him through the thin fabric, gasping when Taako’s hold on him tightens in response.

Taako nods as if in understanding and releases him. Kravitz waits as he shimmies out of the remainders of his clothes, the cool air of Taako’s chambers raising goosebumps across his skin.

“How do you want to do this?” Taako joins him on the bed once again. He had tried to make his pace appear leisurely, but Kravitz isn’t fooled, not with his pupils blown as wide as they are. Taako traces his fingers across Kravitz’s leg, up his thigh, and Kravitz shivers. He casts his eyes appreciatively over Taako’s exposed form, an action the elf acknowledges with a smirk.

Kravitz takes Taako’s hand and laces their fingers together, causing Taako’s ears to flick with surprise. “I just want to feel you,” he murmurs.

Taako snorts, pressing their foreheads together. “Sap.”

“You can talk.”

“Shut up.” Taako pushes Kravitz down onto the bed. “How’s the sensitivity?”

“Tingly,” answers Kravitz as his thoughts zero in on the brief contact of Taako’s fingers against his chest. “I mean, good.”

“Not too much?” Taako teases. He hovers over Kravitz, lets out a slow breath of air and watches as goosebumps spread across Kravitz’s skin. “Oh, hey, you have goosebumps. I didn’t think you could even _get_ -!”

“Taako, _please_ ,” Kravitz pleads, well past the stage where preserving dignity is any kind of concern.

There’s a devil in Taako’s answering smile. “Well, since you asked so nicely.” He lowers himself quickly, the only warning Kravitz receives before Taako takes him into his mouth.

Kravitz’s hand flies to his own mouth, the only barrier to the shout that’s knocked from his lungs. He was already sensitive, dripping, blood mounting to a boil, and the new, hot, wet pressure around him is all-consuming.

He struggles to keep his body under control as Taako works him, but his hips are writhing of their own accord. If anything, Taako seems to be enjoying it, and an appreciative hum vibrates through him, another dizzying sensation to add to the mix that’s on the brink of boiling over.

Kravitz said he wanted to feel him, and he’s getting his wish. His world has narrowed down to the slide of Taako’s tongue, the press of his lips, the suction and the pressure as he swallows around him. Then there’s his hand as well, reaching around, toying with him. It’s all Kravitz can do to fist his hands in Taako’s hair, which earns him another contented hum. Taako begins sliding along him with enthusiasm, his pace quick and forceful.

Kravitz pats at Taako’s head, as much of a warning as he can manage, but Taako is only spurred on further, sucking and swallowing and milking every drop of stimulation he can from Kravitz’s shaking form. He powers on, and the sensation rolls through Kravitz in waves that he’s helpless to stop, dragged under by the tide. He thinks of the endless sea of the astral plane, sinking into it, losing himself in it, and decides that he would rather lose himself in this a thousand times more.

Kravitz gasps and grasps and shudders and writhes and Taako continues, relentless, pushing and pushing and pushing him towards that inevitable peak and then-

Kravitz falls apart, and time stops.

Time stops, but Taako doesn’t. The overstimulation is compounded, doubled, tripled, and if he was overwhelmed before then there is no word in this language or any other for what he is now. Taako’s pace has slowed, but he’s still moving gently along him, carrying him through until Kravitz melts bonelessly into the bed, each wave of sensation shivering through him like ripples across a pond.

Taako detaches, grunts, finishes in his hand. The tips of his ears are flushed as bright as his eyes.

He catches Kravitz staring. “What?”

“I love you.” Kravitz says the words softly, as though he’s afraid they’ll shatter on his lips.

The flush spreads from Taako’s ears, down across his cheeks. He joins Kravitz, curling around him like a stray cat, and nuzzles into his side, yanking the sheets over the pair of them as he moves.

Head under the covers, he murmurs something in response, half lost to the sheets and to the press of his face into Kravitz’s body.

It’s okay. Kravitz understands anyway.

He wakes several hours later as Taako is kicking the sheets off them. Kravitz blinks, shifts, holds his hand out in a gesture half way between a question and an offer of help.

“You’re warm,” Taako offers by way of explanation. There’s a questioning lilt to his voice, and maybe if Kravitz had been more awake they might have discussed it further. But the thick fog of sleep is rolling back in, sweeping Kravitz away as quickly as it came.

Kravitz should probably be more worried than he is. He isn’t supposed to be warm. He’s supposed to be dead.

But wrapped up in Taako’s bed with the press of Taako’s slumbering body against him, death has never felt further away.

That might be the best feeling of them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a WARM BOY? He's SUPPOSED to be DEAD


	7. Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kravitz cashes in some vacation time. Taako learns how to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: panic attack

Kravitz eases up on the training regime for his newest recruits, leaving them to find their feet as he takes a step back from the fray. For the first time in his afterlife, he has something other than work to be throwing himself into, and the perfect timing of Lup and Barry’s recruitment has given him the ways and means to do it.

Nonetheless, guilt nips at Kravitz’s heels as he approaches the Raven Queen’s podium. He bows deeply, summarises the outcome of his most recent cases, all neatly closed, and requests leave for some downtime. There are no new noteworthy cases to deal with and his last batch were handled well ahead of schedule, yet the guilt is automatic, ingrained. It’s the first time since the Raven Queen accepted him into her retinue that he has pushed for any time to himself, and while he’s certainly earned it, it goes against an over-zealous work ethic that has been written into his being for centuries.

If anything, the Raven Queen seems pleased. As pleased as any ineffable and faceless being can appear to the filtered gaze of a non-deity, anyway. She inclines her… something shadowy, that might be head-shaped if looked at from a certain angle, and replies, not through words but through a series of low hums and rumbles directly into his mind, that she is pleased with his work and content for him to take his leave while Barry and Lup step up to the plate.

_Enjoy your time on the mortal plane, Kravitz. You have 18,150 days of unclaimed vacation time, so there is no need to hurry back_.

Kravitz bows again, promises to pass her regards along to the other birds, and retreats with a swipe of his scythe.

The moonbase has been undergoing major renovations in recent weeks, and Taako has become tense and snippy with a build-up of restlessness that Kravitz assumes is related. As soon as Kravitz appears in the doorway to his quarters, Taako is on him, map of Faerun in hand. His itinerary is haphazard and erratically planned, and looks more like an excuse to exercise some wanderlust from his system than an actual wish-list of places to visit, but Kravitz obliges him, waiting patiently for Taako to throw half his bedroom into a bag of holding before transporting them neatly down to the planet below.

Taako shows him how to surf on the beaches of the southern shores, laughing at Kravitz’s old-fashioned swimsuit as the sunlight catches each drop of water on his skin. They lose each other in the streets of Goldcliff until Kravitz follows the familiar glow of Taako’s soul into a shop selling the most expensive and elaborate hats he’s ever seen. They take a coach across the golden plains of the phoenix prairie, watching the yellow glint of the Ignis flower seeds dancing through the air around them as Kravitz re-learns the joys of mortal transport. The journey is half the fun of it, Taako tells him. Every bit as important as the destination.

Half-way between Goldcliff and Rockport, they set up camp at the edge of Silvervalley lake. Taako lights a fire on the shore while the still water sparkles like a blanket rolled out before them, reflecting the stars above. Kravitz wraps a blanket around their shoulders, and they watch the moons’ reflections slide across the lake’s surface. Taako tells stories of his many lives on the road, of Lup and caravans, of touring, of running, of questing, stories the voidfish told him and stories Taako has told him before and stories that Taako has never told anyone until now. Kravitz tells him in return of the hearth in his childhood home, half-forgotten memories of running through fields he had no business being in and nights spent listening to the seer’s whispers in his head, never allowing him to forget even for a second the prophecy running through his veins. Hot soup on cold days and soothing hands pressed to his forehead, trying in vain to relieve him of the fever shaking his body apart. He tells Taako of his life, and his death, and Taako takes Kravitz’s hand in his as he does.

In the morning they wake, limbs intertwined like sprawling tree roots to the sound of the dawn chorus. Taako’s eyelashes are flecked with dew, and they flutter closed as Kravitz works his fingers through his hair, tenderly threading the strands into a plait which swings down his bare back.

Kravitz’s careful styling goes to waste in minutes as Taako predictably yanks Kravitz’s shirt off over his head and drags him into the lake. He squawks at the icy water’s touch but pulls Kravitz after him regardless until the water is up to their chests. The water glows silver under the rising sun, humming with the magical charge rising from the seams of crystal running through the caverns beneath. Taako splashes him, and he splashes back, laughing at the sheen of glitter across his skin.

They tousle in the water until the shiver leaves their bones, although Kravitz’s skin still breaks out in goosebumps under the slide of Taako’s hands. They float through the still waters together while Taako explores every inch of Kravitz’s body save his lips, and Kravitz suddenly discovers that he can’t hold his breath underwater like he used to. They press together, leaching warmth from each other, dizzy from the slide of skin against skin and the thrum of magic channelling around them, pure, directionless. It’s easy for Taako to channel, even without a wand, and he gives the water a form with a flex of his fingers which lifts and pushes, curling into a protective shell around them until they’re in their own little air bubble beneath the surface.

Down here, the water is so bright it’s almost blinding. Kravitz lets his eyes slide closed and buries his face in Taako’s shoulder until he can adjust to it.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs at last as he looks across the silent silver landscape. It stretches out before them, white as the surface of the moon and studded with strange plants that sway in a non-existent breeze.

“Yeah,” Taako agrees. His eyes are on Kravitz’s face as they glow in the reflected light. “Beautiful.”

They press their foreheads together, let their fingers interlock, and stay there until the sun is high in the sky.

Their wanderings deliver them to Rockport, where they have a few days to pass before heading for Neverwinter. The city is thriving, bright and rowdy in a way that Goldcliff wasn’t as they’re swept up in the throngs of workers moving through the arteries of the industrial city. Smoke spills from every chimney accompanied by the clatters and clangs of a city at work. It feels as though they’re the only two in the city with the time or inclination to move at their leisure and take in the scenery. While Kravitz has been spending more time on the material plane than not of late, the colour and noise soon begins to grate on his nerves. Taako, omniscient as always where Kravitz’s feelings are concerned, finds a ramshackle bookshop-café for them to hide in until the rush hour – which seems to last most of the day in this city – passes.

Taako dazzles the owner in seconds, partly just by being Taako, but also because of his extensive knowledge of an archaic and unheard-of form of magic upon which the owner happens to have a collection of ancient and obscure tomes.

The owner is less impressed when Taako takes one of the books over to the table where Kravitz is nursing his first green tea in several centuries and begins adding his own notes in the margins, complaining about the underdevelopment of this particular field of study in this plane compared to world seventy-two, or was it eighty-four?

After signing his name on the inside cover of the ancient tome and handing it back to the owner with a smile and an assurance of its increased worth, he pulls a more recent booklet from the nearest shelf and starts flipping through it, reading exerts about the history of Rockport and points of interest.

“Once a year the moons and the sun line up perfectly with the highest peaks of the teeth range, all in a row, and there’s a festival in the city from sunrise to sunset,” Taako paraphrases. He stops to slurp down hot chocolate, smearing whipped cream on his upper lip like a moustache. Kravitz leans in to swipe it away with his thumb, and the paragraph Taako was about to launch into stutters to a halt. Kravitz, feeling like he’s earned the right to be childish today, licks the cream from his thumb and smirks as Taako’s flush spreads to his ears. Taako coughs and pushes the booklet towards him. “Pretty neat, huh?”

There’s an illustration alongside the article, a dramatic shot of the crests and troughs of the teeth highlighted in silver and orange as the celestial bodies fall in line above them, close enough that it looks like you could step off the peak of the mountain and land on the moon. Possible, in theory, if Lucretia could be persuaded to make some adjustments to her flight plan.

Kravitz agrees with a hum. The thing about eternity is that there’s never a rush to do anything. Kravitz feels as though he’s barely scratched the surface of the wonders Faerun has to offer. He had never felt the pressure to seek them out before – they were hardly going anywhere, were they? – but with Taako at his side, every second is precious.

“Shame we missed the date,” Taako adds. Kravitz glances down, and yes, they’re just three days late for this year’s festivities.

“We could come back next year,” says Kravitz. He leafs through the booklet, wondering if there’s anything else worth visiting, and almost misses the rattle as Taako returns his mug to its saucer. He looks up, sees Taako’s expression, and stops.

It’s not a full-blown meltdown – they’ve come up with procedures for that between them, quiet spaces Kravitz can whisk them away to at a moment’s notice, a list of people to call, a list of do’s and don’ts – but there’s still something off, enough to worry Kravitz into action. The owner is the only other person in the shop, vanished several minutes ago into the stacks while muttering about vandalism. Kravitz shifts his chair until the table is no longer between them and takes Taako’s hands. They’re shaking a little, although not as badly as his legs, which tremble like invisible springs are glued to the heels of Taako’s boots.

“Breathe,” Kravitz instructs, squeezing Taako’s hands in a slow rhythm until the rise and fall of his chest matches his pace. “Just breathe through it, love.”

They stay like that for a minute, until the chime of the bell over the door startles them from their trance. Taako nods and Kravitz pulls back, although he keeps one of Taako’s hands in his own. “Do you want to talk?”

Taako shakes his head, then nods. “No. Yes. Whatever, Bones, it’s stupid.”

“I promise you it isn’t.”

Taako lets out a huff of air. It’s almost a laugh, but with no real amusement attached. “I keep forgetting.” He pauses, raises the hot chocolate to his mouth and takes a long sip. “I keep forgetting that this will all still be here next year. That we won’t all have to hop on board a spaceship in a few months and start over again. This is permanent. This is our forever.”

“Are you okay with that?” Kravitz asks. He’s seen many things in his time, but Taako is one of the few people in the world who can match him in experience, perhaps surpass him. Taako’s past is an impossible whirlwind of adventure and exploration, and Kravitz can’t imagine how it must feel to settle in one place, to stay in one life after traveling so long. He wouldn’t resent him for missing it.

Taako laughs, and this time it’s halfway to real. “Okay? Kravitz, it’s-” He pauses, steadies himself, continues, “I want it. I want it more than I’ve wanted anything. I want to live here, to build a life for myself, I want to grow old and die like any other fuckin’ person in existence. And that’s what fuckin’ scares me.” He meets Kravitz’s eyes, and his grip on his hand tightens. “I always want what I can’t have.”

“Not anymore,” says Kravitz. He leans forward, takes Taako’s face in his hands and smooths a thumb across his lips once again. “You can have this. You _do_ have this.”

Taako rests a hand on one of Kravitz’s wrists. He nods, eyes watery, and together, they breathe.

Kravitz picks up a book on a dwarfish composer he particularly likes; Taako grabs an assortment of spell and cookery books ( _scoping out the competish, baby!_ ) and by the time they leave they’re in the owner’s good books once again, no pun intended.

Their next stop is Phandalin. When Taako reunited them on their day of story and song, a phantasmal reconstruction of the town had shimmered in the air around them. The glowing memory faded with the magic that brought him there, but the gleaming field of sapphire remains as bright a blue as the day they reached across worlds to create it together.

Despite the rich varnish of precious stone coating the landscape, the remains are virtually untouched. Taako stands at the edge of the sapphire fields for a long time, the wind toying with his loose hair as he stares down at the rim. Countless bouquets have been laid there, some with inscriptions to forgotten-and-remembered inhabitants of the city, some to loved ones lost to the hunger’s attacks, some to the birds themselves. They surround the glass like a protective barrier, and an effective one at that. No opportunistic thief has laid so much as a fingerprint on the precious monument to Phandalin.

Taako stoops, reads an inscription attached to a spring of Elderflower, and straightens, joining Kravitz at his side again.

“Permanent,” Taako says quietly.

His eyes slide closed. It’s acceptance wrapped up in grief. Kravitz wishes Taako could have found peace without the pain, but the wounds are still too fresh. He has the rest of his life to heal.

Kravitz takes his hand. They stay there as the sun sinks in the sky and the sapphire pool twinkles and turns at last to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is ironic that I am posting a chapter about a fantasy vacation while literally unable to leave my house.  
> Next time: THB reunion ;)


	8. Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to look to the future.  
> (Vacation part two, electric boogaloo)

They finish their tour in Neverwinter, with familiar faces that ground Taako. He’s himself again, or pretending to be for the company they’re keeping. Kravitz offers to give Taako space as he reunites with Merle and Magnus, both of whom have spent the last few weeks seeing to various matters in different corners of Faerun, but Taako scoffs and drags him into the tavern by the hem of his sleeve. Neither of Taako’s friends seem surprised by his presence, and Kravitz finds himself wondering when he became an unquestioned part of their little family. It’s a strange, warm feeling that leaves Kravitz unable to follow the conversation for several minutes.

They’re soon joined by Angus, and despite some performative grumbling, the delighted upwards perk of Taako’s ears give him away.

Angus isn’t fooled, and practically knocks Taako off his seat with the enthusiasm of his hug.

Taako listens attentively as Angus gushes about his studies, how well his magic is coming along under the guidance of Lucas’ new institution. Taako wrinkles his nose at the mention of Lucas’ name. “Like that nerd knows the first thing about teaching,” he sniffs. “It’s an _art form_.”

“You’ll always be my favourite teacher, Sir, but I can’t fit my whole education into the spare fifteen minutes you have to blow stuff up in the moonbase cafeteria every few weeks.”

“Blowing stuff up is a key part of any curriculum worth following. If I were running some dumb nerd school-”

“Why don’t you?” says Magnus suddenly. Taako looks at him like he’s grown another head.

“You been buyin’ from Pringles again, buddy?” Taako asks. Magnus shrugs apathetically, which only seems to amp Taako up more. “I’m the most famous celebrity chef in all of creation. I’m an expert in fields of magic that haven’t been _invented_ here yet. My CV is an A4 sheet that says ‘ _I literally saved the whole of creation, you’re welcome_ ’ in all caps on one side and my mugshot on the other. Why would I bother fooling around teaching hungover toddlers the ABCs of the arcana when I have the world at my fingertips?” He looks for Kravitz for backup. Kravitz raises an eyebrow.

“I thought you liked teaching Angus?”

Taako gasps theatrically and presses his hands over Angus’ ears. “We do not use ‘like’ and ‘Angus’ in the same sentence, traitor.”

Angus swats Taako’s hands away with a roll of his eyes.

Merle clears his throat. “Not to get too heavy over chai and biscuits-” he pauses, anticipating perfectly Magnus’ and Taako’s groans. “- _but_ , Taako, you have a life now. A real one.” He glances significantly to Kravitz. “Maybe it’s time you figured out what you want to do with it.”

Taako’s expression doesn’t change but his ears drop as though deflating. Kravitz shifts his leg beneath the table until it presses reassuringly against Taako’s. Considering Taako has only just come to terms with the permanence of this world, Kravitz doubts he has put any thought towards what comes next. It’s always been easy for Kravitz; he wanted to be a conductor, and then he died, and then he became a Reaper. There has never been any doubt nor lack of direction, just a clear path marked out for him which stretches further than the eye can see.

He shouldn’t envy the choices Taako has to make and the anxiety that comes with it, yet he does. The trouble with always having a set path to follow is that it’s a narrow one, constraining. Taako can make his own path in whatever direction he wants. Kravitz can only hope it intersects with his own.

After a beat of silence Taako laughs like Merle has just told a joke. “I _am_ doing something. I’m doing the same thing as all of you chumps. I’m living on the moon with my family. I don’t need to _do_ anything with my life, it just _is_.”

Magnus shifts in his seat. Kravitz isn’t an expert at reading people at the best of times, but he knows avoidance when he sees it. He stares Magnus down, waiting for him to meet his breaking point. It comes quicker than expected. “Actually, speaking of the moon… I’m not actually going to be living on it anymore.”

The attention of the table turns to Magnus.

“Where else are you going to live, dipshit? If you say shrimp heaven, I _swear to Jeffandrew-!_ ”

“Raven’s Roost, actually,” Magnus replies quietly. Taako’s mouth snaps shut mid-sentence. “I’m going to set up a business there. Gonna get me a whole pack of dogs and train them up real good.”

“Excuse me Sir, but how is that a business, exactly?” Angus pipes up.

“I’ll hang a sign over the door saying ‘ _I literally saved the whole of creation, you’re welcome_ ’ and I’m sure the money will come rolling in,” Magnus says. He smiles, and it’s not his usual upbeat grin but something more profound, warm and joyful that Kravitz has never seen from him before. It’s healing, and purpose, and victory, and contentment. He wants Taako to know that same expression.

Merle clears his throat. “Is it a bad time to mention I’m moving too?”

“Of course you are,” Taako mutters. He slams back his juice with a wince like it’s a shot and snaps his fingers for another. Taako once told Kravitz that everything he drinks tastes like Key-Lime Gogurt, and Kravitz still can’t decide whether or not he was joking.

“I want to be nearer the kids. They keep growing so damn fast I think I’m going to drop by one day and find out they’ve retired. Besides, I have a few projects of my own in the works.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, but nobody takes him up on any of the questions he’s begging them to ask. “Not like there’s much point to sticking around on the moonbase, is there?”

“We’re there,” Taako snaps. “That’s where we _live_. _Together._ ”

Kravitz is feeling more and more like this isn’t a conversation for him, is wondering if he should have left Taako to it after all, but still he can’t help but interject. “Is it?” Taako turns to him, and the flash of betrayal behind his eyes has Kravitz regretting his words immediately. “I mean… Taako, I know how important your family is to you. They’ll never stop being your family, but you have to admit that this has been coming for a while.”

He’s right, and they both know it. Davenport set sail months ago, and while his letters have been frequent, he shows no sign of returning from his adventures anytime soon. Lup and Barry, despite spending every spare second with Taako that they can, have been busy with their new roles and re-adapting to life with each other. They’ve mentioned more than once the idea of finding a place of their own, although there’s still hesitation in Lup’s eyes at the thought of putting any unnecessary distance between herself and her brother. Magnus and Merle’s new ventures, although surprising, certainly haven’t come out of nowhere – they’ve spent more of the last months on Faerun than they have on the base, leaving Taako more often than not with the quarters to himself. There’s still Lucretia, of course, but with the upheaval and reorganisation of the entire bureau, plus a near-insurmountable amount of scorched earth to traverse between them, there remains very little company for Taako on the moon where the birds are concerned.

Taako’s hand dips out of sight under the table, clenching in the fabric of his trousers. Kravits moves subtly to place his hand on Taako’s, and the tense grip loosens under the reassurance of his touch. “It’s okay,” Kravitz continues. “It’s part of life.”

Taako glances up at Kravitz, and for less than a second his eyes are burning with a deep, raw panic that cuts through Kravitz’s soul. It’s the same gut reaction Kravitz has seen in the eyes of a deer seconds before bolting from its hunter, or in the snarl of a wolf when its cubs are under threat.

Then the defences fall into place and Taako’s expression falls flat. “Yeah,” he says to the table. “Yeah, whatever. I don’t need you guys around. Nah, this is better, finally some _space_ , some fuckin’ peace and quiet without you bozos cramping my style. It’ll be _great_ ,” he says emphatically. He leans back in his chair and crosses his hands behind his head, but his movements are too stiff and affected to create the nonchalance he’s aiming for. Taako gazes defiantly at Merle and Magnus, challenging them to call him on it.

There’s a long moment of silence. At last, Magnus stands. “I’ll miss you too, buddy.” Without warning, he scoops Taako from the chair and hugs him so hard Kravitz swears he hears bones cracking. Taako shrieks, wriggles as though Magnus is _actually_ killing him, swats and pushes and fails to make so much as a dent in Magnus’ enthusiastic embrace.

Merle rolls his eyes and joins the pair at their side of the table, although he can only reach high enough to pat Taako on the hip. This is where Taako gives in, going limp like a ragdoll.

“You stink,” he says into Magnus’ shoulder. It’s unclear if he’s being literal or just insulting.

They don’t let go until they’ve extracted a dozen promises from Taako to stop by for one reason or another; grand openings, birthday bashes, Summer Solstice, enough to fill their calendar for the rest of the year and beyond.

Angus snags a hug of his own from Taako before he’s allowed to escape. He says something quiet into the elf’s ear before letting him stand back up. For a moment Taako’s mask cracks. He blinks, ruffles Angus’ hair and gives a hoarse goodbye before all but pulling Kravitz from the tavern.

The rest of their visit in Neverwinter passes quickly. Taako’s antsy-ness that had vanished at the advent of their travels returns in full force, and as they visit each point of interest Kravitz gets the feeling that Taako’s mind is elsewhere. Perhaps back on the moonbase, wandering the vacant quarters that used to belong to his teammates.

They return to the base three days later. There have been a lot of changes during their absence; the place is bright and busy with faces Kravitz doesn’t recognise. New signage has replaced the old – Bureau of Benevolence Humanoid Resources, Bureau of Benevolence Public Relations, Bureau of Benevolence Crisis Centre. Lucretia nods to them as they pass, weighed down with a stack of files taller than she is and a flurry of assistants and advisors in her wake.

Taako doesn’t nod back, although it’s hard to tell if it’s deliberate or down to the distraction of his own thoughts.

There’s no sign of Lup or Barry in the adjacent quarters. Taako flops down on Lup’s bunk, which is scattered with century-old textbooks Kravitz lent her about necrotic practices in various centuries and cultures. He’s delighted that she’s studying up; less so that several of them appear to have something spilled across the cover which could equally be dried blood or chocolate froyo.

A week after the day of story and song Kravitz walked in on a similar scene; Lup’s empty room, Taako curled up in her bunk. That hadn’t been one of the better days on the path to recovery. The familiar panic had taken over Taako’s mind, that Lup was gone for good. Kravitz had rubbed circles into the frozen elf’s back until Lup returned, dropping the fresh batch of doughnuts when she saw the state her brother was in.

Taako hasn’t turned in on himself as he did on that day – there’s a long line of relapse and recovery taking them from there to here – but he’s still off, ears drooping as he nudges at one of Lup’s textbooks with one toe.

Kravitz silently offers Taako his stone of farspeech. Taako shakes his head.

“Are you sure?”

Taako nods. Shakes his head. Nods again. “Can you ring them? Just to ask when they’re back.”

Lup’s stone goes to voicemail. Kravitz dials Barry before Taako can start panicking.

“Ye-ello?” Barry says on the third ring. There are several deafening bangs in the background, a cackle of laughter, and, bizarrely, bagpipe music. It’s the kind of chaos that causes Kravitz’s work accent to slip reflexively into place.

“Mornin’, Barry. You with Lup?” Beside him, Taako snorts.

“Yeah, she’s kinda got her hands full right now.” A crash that sounds like a cutlery drawer being upended clatters down the line. “Why, is something wrong?”

Kravitz looks to Taako, who shakes his head.

“Nothing, mate. Just checking in. Need any help on your end?”

“Nah, just investigating some low-level poltergeist activity. Nothing interesting.” His words are punctuated by several further crashes and a long, high-pitched shriek. 

“Righto. Come and find us when you’re done?”

“Why, did you get us a present? Aw, boss, you shouldn’t have!”

The bagpipe music starts up again, louder.

“Hey, babe? A hand?” Lup’s voice echoes in the background. Taako’s ears twitch.

“Gotta go!” Barry says, and the line goes dead.

Kravitz sits beside Taako on the bed. “Better?”

“Yeah.” He hooks a finger on Kravitz’s collar and pulls him in until their foreheads bump together. “Thanks, babe.”

They return to Taako’s quarters, where Kravitz cooks under Taako’s close supervision. Later, Taako drags every blanket, throw and cover he can find onto the bed where he wraps them both in a cocoon of blankets so tightly that Kravitz can no longer see the flicker of the moonbase lights nor feel the hum of the station’s engines around them. Taako presses Kravitz into the mattress with hands so tender that Kravitz wonders how he ever lived without his touch, and when he’s finished making Kravitz forget his own name he takes Kravitz’s hands and wraps them around his back, wriggling and nudging wordlessly until Kravitz gets the message, rubbing slow soothe circles that ease the tension from Taako’s body.

Lup and Barry stop by with the sunrise. The rattling pots and pans shake Kravitz and Taako from slumber, and they stumble into the kitchen to find pancakes stacked to the ceiling awaiting them.

Barry listens to Kravitz’s description of Silvervalley Lake with a twinkle in his eye while Taako takes Lup to one side. Kravitz watches from the corner of his eye as Lup goes from concern to surprise to acceptance to tender, tentative joy. She pulls Taako into a hug and presses a kiss to his forehead. Kravitz averts his gaze, suddenly feeling as though he’s intruded upon something private.

Lup bounces back to Barry’s side, spinning around on the breakfast barstool twice before throwing an arm around his neck. She doesn’t share, but she’s glowing with joy, almost literally, her litch aura lighting up like a Candlenights tree.

Kravitz isn’t sure if Taako can see auras in the same way a Reaper can, but he’s smiling all the same, basking in the reflected glow that’s pouring from her like molten rock.

Later, when their guests have returned to the suite next door and they’re doing dishes elbow-to-elbow at the kitchen sink, Taako explains.

“I told her to get the house. Down there.” Taako nods to the window set into the common area floor, covered as usual by a large red rug.

“I didn’t know she’d talked to you about it.” Kravitz takes the dish Taako hands him, checks it over, hands it back. “Missed a spot.”

Taako rolls his eyes but dunks it once more in the tub regardless. “She didn’t have to.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“It’s about time I was.” Taako’s gaze is fixed on the water circling the plughole without really seeing it.

“That’s not an answer.”

“You know me too well, Bones.” Taako flicks the water from his hands before slipping his arms around Kravitz, pressing his head under his chin.

“You’re drying your hands on my shirt, aren’t you?”

“Sssh, baby,” Taako says while continuing to do just that, “this is just how I show affection.”

“I can think of better ways.”

“Wanna bet?”

He does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True fact: every set of bagpipes is, in fact, possessed by a poltergeist.   
> Source: I'm Scottish, trust me.


	9. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taako reaches breaking point. Kravitz picks up the pieces.

Taako is trying so, so hard to be okay. It’s written in his every movement, every twitch of his lips and dart of his eyes. He’s trying so hard that it pushes on Kravitz’s chest like a vast, aching weight.

The moonbase is too quiet.

Taako apologises, over and over, when Kravitz comes back from work to find him curled up in a ball somewhere he shouldn’t be, or zoned out in the middle of a household task, wiping the same section of bench over an over until Kravitz comes over to take the cloth from his hands.

In return, Kravitz tells him it’s okay, over and over, because maybe this time it will stick.

It does stick, but only on a conscious level. It’s the darker parts of Taako’s psyche that are harder to get to.

Taako had insisted that it was okay for the others to move out, that he had learned to be normal about things like _long distance_ and _space_. Kravitz suspects that his plan was more _fake it ‘till you make it_ , which seems to be Taako’s strategy for most problems he can’t charm his way out of.

For the first time in his post-life, Kravitz hates work. Hates leaving Taako alone in empty quarters for days at a time is the truth of it, but the outcome is the same. He rushes through paperwork he would usually read three times over before submitting just to get away that little bit earlier, counts the hours that have passed on the material plane with an attentiveness that borders on obsessive.

If his colleagues notice, they keep it to themselves. It is a lie that Reapers are not capable of mercy.

Taako is not so kind.

“You’re not my babysitter,” he snaps when Kravitz returns several hours earlier than expected for the fourth day running. “I don’t just sit around all day waiting for you to get back! I’m not a pet! I _do_ things! Out there! In the world!”

Taako is wearing nothing but a pair of boxers decorated with shrimp patterns as he says this. The bedsheets pool around him as he wriggles upright to glare with all his might.

“Did I wake you, pet?” Kravitz asks, nuzzling the side of Taako’s neck by way of greeting.

Taako sags against him as though his touch has drained all the fight from his body. His hair is loose and adorably mussed up so strands of it tickle Kravitz’s skin as they embrace. “Nooooo,” he says, voice lilting up as the syllable grows long on his lips. He pulls Kravitz onto the bed with arms that hook him in like vines, and suddenly Kravitz is enveloped in the gentle pull of Taako’s embrace and the sheets that smell of him.

The full three-piece work suit is a little too formal for rolling around in Taako’s bed, so Kravitz takes the lazy way out and wills his clothes out of existence as he lets Taako arrange him in his arms.

Nothing happens.

Kravitz stills. The tension zaps from his body to Taako’s like electricity through a wire as Taako similarly freezes, hand clenching on his chest in a silent question.

Kravitz tries again. His black jacket remains obstinately attached to his body, as though it had suddenly decided that the laws of physics weren’t just for other clothes. His clothes have stopped being constructs to be summoned and banished at will. Now they’re just _clothes_.

It’s baffling, but Kravitz wraps up the concern and puts it on a shelf for later, perhaps in the Raven Queen’s presence. It’s unorthodox, but undressing himself won’t kill him. Again.

He shrugs off the jacket before wriggling back into Taako’s arms with a reassuring nod. It takes longer for the tension to leave Taako’s body, but once it does, he nuzzles into the top of Kravitz’s head like he wants to smother himself in Kravitz’s hair.

“I’m just getting the hang of things, y’know? Practice makes perfect n’ all that shit. ‘Cha boy is good, I swear.” Taako prods Kravitz’s cheek. “I can _hear_ you worrying.”

Kravitz catches Taako’s hand and holds it, gaze flicking across the knuckles and up. The BOB bracer on Taako’s arm glints in the artificial moonbase lighting. He knows Magnus had his removed months ago but assumed that Taako kept his for purely practical reasons. He’s beginning to suspect otherwise.

Kravitz has the beginnings of an idea.

“What are you smiling at?” Taako yawns. The mid-afternoon nap that Kravitz interrupted is sliding its grip back over Taako and looks set to pull Kravitz down with him.

Kravitz rolls onto his stomach so he can look at Taako as he answers. “You.”

“Horseshit,” Taako snorts, but he lets it slide. His hands slide over Kravitz’s back, pressing into the knots of tension in his spine in a way that makes Kravitz’s chest feel like it’s full of helium. He lets out a low, rumbling moan as the workday stress seeps from his bones, and Taako’s ears twitch at the sound.

They don’t end up sleeping. At least, not right away.

Kravitz takes a few days to investigate different parts of Faerun. He narrows his search to Neverwinter, then to a suburb, then to a house.

He talks to some people, shakes some hands, and starts planning his reveal.

As much as they can both be a fan of the dramatics at times, Kravitz opts for the simplest approach.

“I have something to show you,” he says, materialising in the kitchen just as Taako is removing a tray of muffins from the oven.

“If it’s another mole, I’m not interested.” Taako skates an appraising eye over him. “Unless it’s somewhere interesting.”

Kravitz shakes his head. He reaches to take the tray from Taako’s hand, thinks better of it at the last minute. These days, he’s a lot more susceptible to things like fire damage. He wonders if it’s the immortal equivalent of a head cold he’s been having.

Taako puts the tray down and follows Kravitz through the open portal behind him. Hand in hand, they step out into a small garden with a white picket fence. The blur of butterfly wings catches the sun and tulip heads nod to each other in the breeze. Taako turns slowly, taking it in. He stops when he spots the two-storey house at the top of the garden. The white stone is bright in the midday sun and each window is adorned with a small red window box. 

Kravitz takes Taako’s hand and drops the keys into his palm. “Take a look.”

Taako gives him a wary look but does so nonetheless. His ears twitch as the key clicks into place.

The back door takes them straight into the kitchen, which is why Kravitz chose to start in the garden. It’s enormous, too big for the house – the agent said something about a resizing spell, Kravitz was too stunned to listen – and gleaming, with rustic exposed brickwork and a stove with so many rings they could happily cater for a family of hundreds. Pots of all shapes and sizes hang over it on hooks, and there’s a sliding ladder for the rows of shelves above that reach to the rafters. Taako’s eyes are shining.

The kitchen is where they return to after touring the rest of the house, which is so significantly expanded on the inside that it must be breaking twelve types of planning permission.

Taako slides himself onto a stool and rests his elbows on the kitchen island. His mouth is set in a straight line.

“What is this?” he asks quietly.

“Yours. If you want it to be.” Kravitz sits on the other side of the counter, arms folded. “A short ride from Neverwinter centre, a shorter ride from Lup and Barry’s. A city full of people on your doorstep to dazzle.”

Taako shakes his head, and his laughter sends a stab of panic through Kravitz’s gut like a knife. “Babe. I can’t get a _house_. I live on the moon. That’s my _home_.”

“You told me once that you were with the Bureau because you were afraid no one else would have you.” He reaches across the counter for Taako’s hand. “Taako, this is my way of telling you… you will be loved and welcomed wherever you go. Home can be where you want it to be.”

Taako keeps shaking his head as though he’s trying to shake Kravitz’s words from it. “No, you don’t understand, I _have_ to do this. I _have to.”_ His grip on Kravitz’s hand tightens.

“You don’t have to do anything. What are you talking about?”

“I have to stay on the moonbase, okay? I have to prove that I can be okay, that I can be okay without…” Something in Taako cracks, and Kravitz sees the fault-lines in the pained clench of Taako’s teeth. “I can live without my friends. I can survive being alone. I did it before and I can do it again. Don’t you see? They want to leave, and I have to let them.”

Now it’s Kravitz’s turn to break. “No. No, love, that’s not-”

Words fail him for a moment. All he can do is pull Taako into his arms. Taako’s shoulders hiccup as a quiet sob slips through. Eventually Kravitz pulls himself back, cupping Taako’s cheeks so he can wipe away a stray tear with the pad of his thumb.

“They’re not leaving you, Taako. Your friends – your _family_ – they love you so, so much. They’re building lives for themselves, and they want you to do the same. You don’t have to isolate yourself on the _literal moon_ just to prove you can. It doesn’t matter whether you can get by on your own, because you don’t _have_ to be alone. You’ll never be alone again, not if I have anything to do with it.”

Taako blinks. A shuddery breath escapes him, and with it, weeks upon weeks of wound up tension that slips from Taako’s form and disintegrates between them. He hooks his hand around Kravitz’s wrist like it’s the only thing holding him in place, and for a moment they _breathe_.

“Well,” says Taako through a watery laugh. “When you put it like that, I just sound dumb as all hell.”

“I would never say you were dumb as all hell. Dumb as _some_ hell, maybe- ow, hey!” Kravitz laughs as Taako pinches his arm. “And, okay, not to rush you, but I remember you saying you wanted cats, so I was thinking we could-”

“Wait. Wait,” Taako says, taking Kravitz’s hands in his gently, like they’re liable to break. Kravitz will never stop being surprised by how delicately Taako treats him, like Kravitz is the vulnerable mortal and not the other way around. “We? Like, both of us? Together?”

Kravitz blows a long huff of air through his lips that’s halfway between laughter and exasperation. “What? You thought all this was _just_ for you?”

Taako promptly shoves his head against Kravitz’s chest like he’s hoping to bury himself in it. Little does he know, he already has. “Nooooooooo.”

“I take it back. Dumb as all hell.”

Taako smacks him on the arm.

“I mean,” Kravitz continues after a moment. “…if that’s okay.”

Taako unburies himself from Kravitz’s chest. Now it’s Kravitz’s turn to have his face cupped in Taako’s hands. Taako meets his gaze, sure and unflinching.

“ _Yes_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Dumb as all Hell" is everything I look for in a character tbh


	10. Candlenights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kravitz has been holding onto his last secret for far too long.  
> It's time to tell Taako the truth about the prophecy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: Panic attack, (very) minor injury, alcohol consumption, mild inebriation.  
> Adult content from "As soon as the door is shut" onward. 
> 
> This chapter got wildly out of control length-wise and also in other ways but I'm sure y'all will understand why

Kravitz knows Taako loves Candlenights, no matter how much he tries to hide it. These days, there’s very little Taako makes the effort to hide from him, and for an elf that once survived on the premise of keeping himself to himself, Kravitz is struck anew every day by the rare privilege that is knowing Taako’s soul. When pushed, the elf might admit to an affinity for Candlenights food – plates piled high with traditional meals, warm and fattening to steel the soul for the cold months still to come – but it’s really the long line of friends and family streaming through their little home that brings a spark of light to Taako’s eyes like nothing else will.

It’s their first Candlenights in the house - _their_ house - and with that comes a new array of traditions to create and explore. Kravitz hasn’t had a place of his own on the mortal plane since he _was_ mortal, and he’s relearning how to navigate this little domestic world of their own - dishwashing, curtains, bed-making, bed- _unmaking_ , log fires, sunrises.

They’ve made their own decorations, bright paperchains and candles in mason jars that Taako made himself, all scented with his favourite wildflowers. Kravitz dragged a tree in from out back, but half his life is spent chasing the cats away from it before they can eat any more pine needles or pull the whole thing down on top of themselves for the hundredth time. The only decoration they didn’t make themselves is Angus’ menorah which takes pride of place on the living room windowsill.

The interior of their home may have been magically expanded to allow more rooms than physics should allow, but Kravitz is nonetheless convinced that it was not designed to hold this many people at once. Invited or not, most of the planer system wants to stop by and have a poke around Taako’s new digs. If living less than two minutes from their front door wasn’t enough (but even then they still scythe through, because Reaper powers are still a novelty to be abused) Lup and Barry have almost spent more time in the cottage than Kravitz and Taako have. The spare room is, unofficially, the Angus room, and Merle and Magnus have been stopping by with housewarming gifts varying in usefulness from DIY tools (Magnus) to a violet plant that bites anything that tries to touch it (Merle). Neither of the cats are fans of it, and Kravitz is tempted to sit it in front of the Candlenights tree like a flowery guard-plant.

Today is the first time Lucretia has stopped by, perhaps hoping to fly under the cover of the crowd. Kravitz watches as she approaches Taako, trying very hard not to make it look like he’s paying attention. He’s been trying with all his might not to fall into the Taako-Lucretia rift, as the rest of the birds have taken to calling it, but he has been woken too many times by Taako’s Lup-related nightmares to find forgiveness coming easily to him. But it’s Taako who has the right to anger, not Kravitz, and he will follow his lead for as long as it takes the wounds to heal over. Today, like every day, progress is made, baby steps in careful conversations as they walk their way back to a friendship that will never be what it was, but will, at least, be.

Kravitz is distracted from his subtle observation by a child jumping on him. He’s small, with a mess of hair and a missing front tooth. He’s also dwarfish, and by process of elimination Kravitz decides that this must be Merle’s son.

He’s also crying, a flood of tears and snot leaking from various orifices which he wipes onto his sleeve. He wails something about stolen cookies and a burnt thumb, and Kravitz looks around with the same kind of panic that Taako wears when he realises supper is burning. Unfortunately, Merle is nowhere to be seen.

Kravitz has dealt with the frothing hell spawn of the darkest dimensions; he can deal with a crying child. In theory.

After some coaxing, the child shows him a stubby hand marked a painfully shiny red. It doesn’t take a boy detective (who is rolling around on the carpet under a pile of Magnus’ dogs) to figure out that Mookie had been nosing around in the kitchen, where a tray of Taako’s gingerbread star cookies are cooking in the oven.

The crumbs around his mouth confirm Kravitz’s theory. He’s impressed that second-degree burns don’t appear to have swayed the child in his mission to steal uncooked food. Maybe children aren’t so different from cats.

He listens patiently as Mookie shares his tale of woe. Most of it is incomprehensible, accompanied by expansive hand gestures and shameless exaggeration that would have done Merle proud.

He finishes by thrusting his battle wound under Kravitz’s nose, demanding further inspection. Kravitz nods, suggests cold water, and breathes out a sigh of relief as the child vanishes to hopefully follow the advice.

Mookie reappears exactly seven seconds later, dripping water over the carpet and asking if it’s better now. If Kravitz had to guess, he would say Mookie interpreted Kravitz’s advice as “dunk your entire head under the kitchen tap.”

“Oh, yeah, that’ll have fixed it,” said Kravitz, who knows he can get away with being a bit of a shit with his current audience.

Mookie pouts. “Still hurts.”

“Your father is a healer, isn’t he? Have you seen him?”

“He’s talking to your garden.”

_Oh no_ , thinks Kravitz. After a moment of consideration, Mookie presents the burn to him expectantly. “Magic, please.”

“Oh. I’m not, ah…” Turning into a skeleton would probably impress Mookie no end, but that’s not the kind of magic he’s looking for. Besides, his form-shifting has been on the fritz lately. Kravitz isn’t as bothered as he should be – he’s enjoying his human form so much these days that it’s hard to remember why he bothers with any other. “I don’t have healing magic, I’m afraid.”

Mookie shakes his head stubbornly. “My dad says _everyone_ has healing powers. Like when Mommy kisses something better, that’s healing magic.”

Kravitz laughs despite himself. It’s a superstition older than he is; he had no idea it was still around. “You father is a wise man. Occasionally.”

Mookie nods, now looking at Kravitz like he’s a touch slow. He holds out his burnt hand expectantly, and maybe Kravitz _is_ a little slow, as it takes him a moment to join the dots.

Kravitz takes the hand and blows a raspberry into it. “Magic kiss. All done!” Mookie shrieks, giggles, and swats Kravitz’s face away. He’s so caught up in the moment that he almost misses the shatter of glass from across the room.

The wine in Taako’s hand is no more, and there’s a flurry of movement as a dozen hands offer help, pulling dustpans, brushes, wipes and cleaner from cupboards that social norms usually dictate should be unopened by guests.

There’s such upheaval in picking pieces of glass from the white-turned-red shag rug – which will survive with some delicate spellwork, but barely – that only two people in the room notice the shaking of Taako’s hands.

Lup and Kravitz share a silent look. It’s one they’ve shared a dozen times or more, a careful gage of who Taako needs most in that moment, who Taako wants most, who Taako is more likely to talk to. It’s a delicate and difficult question to answer, but they’ve perfected their silent communication almost as much as they’ve perfected their system of support. These days, they’re rarely wrong.

Lup’s already at Taako’s side, so it’s easier for her to nudge him and suggest he go check on Meatloaf, their ginger tom who took his cowardly butt out of the room as fast as her four legs would carry her at the sound of glass breaking. Taako nods and excuses himself, and Lup sends Kravitz the look that says _this one’s for you_.

Kravitz finds Taako and Meatloaf curled up in the wardrobe. Their wardrobe is the largest Kravitz has seen in life or death, and Taako’s clothes make up most of the occupancy. Taako’s still learning to have belongings again – his ten-year odyssey taught him to pack light, ready to make a break for it at the first sign of trouble. During his time on the moonbase, Kravitz had been slow to realise that Taako just cycled through the same five outfits or so, disguising the fact by magically adjusting the colours and patterns as he saw fit. But Taako is, at heart, a materialistic elf, and is slowly letting himself and his belongings expand into the space that their home is affording them.

Kravitz is having a similar learning curve – on the Astral Plane he has few needs and can summon and banish most physical necessities as he sees fit. At first it was jarring to have to go and hunt for a quill instead of willing one to his hand, but now he can’t imagine how he got by without, for instance, his favourite mug. It’s coal-black and says _Dying for a Cuppa_ on the side alongside a cartoon skull, a gift that Lup and Barry claimed to have found in a second-hand store and couldn’t leave without. He has a favourite brand of coffee and finds himself getting hungry if he goes too long without raiding the kitchen cupboards for whatever treats Taako has stocked them with this week. So yes, he can sympathise with Taako’s desire for excess belongings. It’s grounding, physical evidence of the life they have built together.

Kravitz slides a rack of skirts out of the way and Taako scoots to the side to make room for him. Meatloaf wriggles in protest in Taako’s lap, claws unsheething to hold herself in place. Taako’s hands are smoothing rhythmically through her fur, but there’s still a slight tremor to them which the movement fails to hide.

“What’s wrong, love?” Kravitz says. He places his hand on Taako’s, and it stills in Meatloaf’s fur. Taako takes it, frowns at him, raises it to his lips.

Kravitz has mostly learned to stop flinching when Taako’s face comes too close, but the intent of the movement is so clear that he reacts without thinking, yanking his hand from Taako’s grasp and pulling it in against himself. “What are you doing?!”

“You kissed Mookie’s hand better,” Taako’s voice is shaking with a mask of anger, but Kravitz can see the terror beneath. “You said you can’t kiss anyone, ever! I thought you were going to _die_.”

He curls into himself, and now the shaking has spread through the rest of his body as his breath come in short, sharp gasps. Meatloaf is startled from his perch on Taako’s lap and snakes off in a huff, barrelling through the door and off in search of a more stable heat source.

Kravitz takes the opportunity to move closer, rubbing circles into Taako’s back and coaching him through the breathing exercises they both know back to front. He waits until Taako is calm before speaking again.

“It doesn’t work like that.”

Taako’s leaning his head on his forearm, so his voice, when it comes, is muffled. “I thought you didn’t _know_ how it worked.”

“Mostly, I don’t.” There were many details he had avoided, in the beginning. It was difficult enough to introduce the bare elements of his condition to a new relationship. As wonderfully as Taako had handled it, back in the beginning, there were things that…no. Not then. But now they have come so far, he owes Taako the truth. “Mookie can’t hurt me, Taako.”

That’s enough for Taako to raise his head from his arms. He’s still a shade paler than usual, but his ears flick upwards with curiosity. “Why not?”

Kravitz lets out a huff of air. He knows that he is right, that he can trust Taako, but secrecy is a difficult habit to shake. There are things that he has spent so much time locking up and letting knot up inside him that untangling the mess risks pulling himself apart in the process. “It’s not just any kiss that could kill me. It has to be from you.”

Taako stares at him, unblinking, bright green eyes inescapable. They were one of the first things Kravitz had noticed about the elf, how much older they were than the rest of his face. “There’s something you’re trying not to tell me, Bones. I can see it bunched up in your face. Spit it out already.”

Kravitz lets out another short huff of air. It’s becoming a habit, not quite the constant rhythm of breath, but halfway there. “The curse states that I will be killed by True Love’s Kiss. I couldn’t kiss anyone, because anyone could have turned out to be my soulmate, my true love. But now I know who my soulmate is…” Kravitz lets his voice trail off, leaving the rest of the sentence for Taako to put together. 

Taako’s response, when it comes, is little more than a whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to scare you.”

Taako reaches around and taps the back of Kravitz’s head with his hand in admonishment. “Babe, when we first met, I had the hots for you so bad you could have told me you were a serial killer with a vore fetish and I wouldn’t have blinked.”

“That’s weirdly specific.”

“Shut up.” Taako’s breathing is back to normal, but there’s still a thick line of tension running up and down his body like a rod, and his nails are digging into his arms hard enough to leave marks. Kravitz wants to take his hands with a kind of desperation that he’s sure is written all over his face, but when Taako’s this stressed it’s best to let him set the boundaries. His ears flick back and he licks his lips as he finds a way to force out the words that come next. “So you think I’m your soulmate?”

“I don’t think it. I know it.” Kravitz doesn’t know how to read the flicker behind Taako’s eyes, but once he starts to unspool the thoughts and feelings rolled up in his chest it’s impossible to stop. “I know it in a way that I’ve never known anything. I feel it, right here beneath my ribcage, every time you look at me, or touch me, or smile, or laugh, or… I feel it, like a drumbeat. I feel you.” Kravitz presses the palm of his hand to his chest, feels the vibration of it run through his hand. “Always, you. Only you.”

Taako stares for possibly the longest second of Kravitz’s existence. He feels like he’s just dropped a handful of coins down a well and he’s caught in the eternity between them leaving his hand and hearing the splash at the bottom. Doubt catches light and burns through his mind, because he’s always been so, so careful, not to be too much or to push too hard, and no matter how many times Taako proves to him that he feels the same way there’s the constant, nibbling doubt that-

Taako unfreezes just as Kravitz is starting to spiral. He reaches for the rack of clothes hanging above them and pulls down the first object his hand connects with – a beautiful, long silky sapphire scarf thin enough that he can make out the shadow of Taako’s hands through the fabric. A present from one of the birds, or maybe Angus, brought out in combination with only Taako’s most elegant outfits.

Taako drapes the scarf across Kravitz’s face. Kravitz twitches, lets out a noise of confused protest which Taako brushes away. If it’s meant to be a blindfold, it’s not a good one; he can still see the rest of the room, and Taako in front of him, albeit in shades of blue.

Taako cups Kravitz’s cheeks, holding the fabric in place across his face, and then leans in.

It’s the closest thing to a real kiss that Kravitz has ever had. Taako’s lips meet his through the scarf, pressing soft warmth and pressure onto his lips like the first sip of hot chocolate on a winter night. Kravitz had never spent much time trying to imagine how a kiss felt – saw no point in tormenting himself with something he could never have – but this close, with only a thin layer of fabric between them as Taako cups his cheeks and slides their mouths together, well. He can see what all the fuss is about.

After a long time (but nowhere near long enough) Taako breaks apart to bury his face in his hands. If he’s trying to hide his blush, he fails; the tips of his ears are several shades too bright. He mutters something inaudible into his hands. Kravitz takes a moment to pull himself back together and remember important details like his own name before he nudges Taako’s hands away from his face. “What was that, love?”

“I said I love you so much, you dumb sack of shit!”

And just like that, Kravitz falls apart all over again. He pulls Taako in against him and buries his face in his neck, letting out a stream of reciprocation that he’s too blitzed out to take any kind of control over. He leaves his mouth to run loose with mindless adoration and enjoys the feeling of Taako’s fingers threading through his hair.

They leave the party unsupervised long enough to have passed rude by a long shot, but nobody seems to care, least of all Taako. He slides back into his public persona like it’s a second skin and spends the rest of the night dazzling their guests in his easy, trying-without-looking-like-he’s-trying manner that draws people in without fail. Kravitz has always been happy to lurk outwith the limelight, and that’s what he does, letting the atmosphere soak through him to the bones, happily nursing a glass of red as he does so. Perhaps more than one.

If he has to make one criticism of the birds – although he could make many more of certain members if he was _really_ pushed – it would be that they never quite know when to call it a night. It’s hours before they gently manhandle a tipsy Merle and Magnus across the threshold (Kravitz did offer to tear open a portal, but Merle’s still holding Kravitz at (one) arm’s length and Magnus claims they give him an upset stomach) and both of them are about ready to drop.

As soon as the door is shut, Taako heaves a sigh of relief and lets his glamour drop. He catches Kravitz watching him. “Don’t.”

Kravitz steps forward and cups Taako’s chin. “You look beautiful.”

Taako wriggles in his grip, nose scrunching. “Noooooooooooo.”

“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeessssssssssss.” Kravitz boops his nose. It’s the _cutest_ nose. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Not too much,” Kravitz says, then winks suggestively. Then he adds an eyebrow wriggle, just to be sure.

Taako rolls his eyes, but the corner of his mouth turns upwards. When Taako wants to invite attention he either does it with the subtlety of a foghorn or so indirectly that Kravitz wonders if he’s imagining it. Tonight, it’s the subtle approach; instead of clambering all over Kravitz like one of their cats until he has no choice but to give Taako the entirety of his attention, he just tilts his head to one side, looks Kravitz up and down, and leaves the room without a word.

Kravitz has always been careful not to make assumptions, and so for much of the earlier stages of their relationship this approach did not work on him. Only once Taako’s will had broken and he had informed Kravitz quite flippantly that he _wouldn’t recognise bedroom eyes if they walked up to him in a bar and smacked him on the ass_ that Kravitz learned to recognise Taako’s signs. There were plenty, once he knew what he was looking for.

He follows Taako upstairs, a little faster than he normally would. Taako stops and turns to smirk back at him, making sure Kravitz knows he’s been noticed. The bedroom door has barely swung shut behind him when Kravitz whisks Taako off his feet, spinning slowly as he enjoys Taako’s weight in his arms and Taako’s grip around his neck. Taako starts with a snort, which becomes a giggle, which becomes the tickle of his breath on Kravitz’s neck.

Taako’s legs wrap around Kravitz’s waist, and Kravitz’s hands slide down to support him.

“Handsy,” Taako accuses delightedly, wriggling against him.

“Do you want me to drop you?”

“Hey, it wasn’t a complaint.”

Taako rubs a thumb across Kravitz’s lips, looking into Kravitz’s eyes like he’s expecting to drown in them. Then he ducks to the side of Kravitz’s head, taking his earlobe into his mouth and sucking.

Kravitz nearly drops him. Before gravity can get the better of him, he lowers Taako onto the surface of the dresser, sweeping bottles of expensive perfumes and powders out of the way with a disregard he will regret later. There are advantages to the position – Taako remains on eye-level, and Kravitz has both of his hands back at his disposal.

They occupy themselves finding the zipper at the back of Taako’s dress, and he hears two quiet _thunks_ as Taako toes his heels off behind Kravitz’s back. Soon the dress has fallen away, leaving a whole new expanse of skin for Kravitz to explore. Taako throws back his head, which hits the mirror at his back with a dull thump, as Kravitz nips his way across Taako’s chest. Taako’s legs remain locked around his waist like a vice, urging Kravitz onwards as though Taako’s survival depends on every point of contact he can get.

After a few minutes of melting under Kravitz’s attentions, Taako is finally right-minded enough to cause trouble. He pulls his hair from its plait with one hand and lets it tumble down his shoulders, tickling the tip of Kravitz’s nose. His fingers are startlingly cold as they brush Kravitz’s neck on their way to start popping open the buttons of his shirt. Kravitz’s body temperature has been running a few degrees closer to human in recent months, and it leaves him shivering under Taako’s comparatively cool touch as it skips across his neck and down his chest. Tonight, he feels hotter still, which is ridiculous given the spirals of ice crawling across the bedroom windowpanes. But the scented candles on the windowsill keep the cold at bay for the most part – Kravitz doesn’t remember stopping to light them, meaning Taako likely did so with an extravagant wave of his hand in order to save them the time. Kravitz smiles into Taako’s skin at the evidence of his eagerness, not to mention the romantic soul kept carefully hidden under an aloof veneer.

Taako’s dress has pooled tauntingly at his hips, but Kravitz is careful to take his time, relishing how Taako wriggles as he slowly drags his hands up Taako’s thighs until they slip under the hem. Taako whines and presses against him, nails digging into the back of Kravitz’s neck. He mutters something indistinctive, and there’s a slight change of air pressure in the room, but Kravitz is too focused to puzzle out exactly what magic Taako is fooling around with now. He smooths his thumbs across Taako’s inner thighs against the grain of the hair, humming contemplatively just to hear Taako’s impatient grunt in response.

As his hands explore further, he expects to find the soft fabric of Taako’s undergarments. Instead, there’s nothing but the naked V of Taako’s hips.

Kravitz pushes folds of the dress aside, hand on each of Taako’s bared hips, and raises an eyebrow. “You did _not_ spend the whole evening like this.”

“No!” says Taako, scandalised. Exaggeratedly so. Kravitz worries that he may have just given Taako an idea that will come back to haunt him later. “I just got impatient. You’re far too attentive when you’re drunk, you know that?”

“I’m not drunk. The Grim Reaper does not get drunk.”

“Tipsy, then.” Taako pushes Kravitz’s shirt off his shoulders, taking the moment of distraction to nip a trail of bruises into the line of his neck. “I just – cast a quick – banishment spell.”

Kravitz probably shouldn’t be as entertained as he is by the admission. The idea of Taako being able to will their underclothes away on a whim is appealing to say the least. “Is your underwear currently floating around another plane of existence?”

“Are you complaining?”

He really isn’t. Taako gasps as Kravitz takes him in his hand at last, eyes squeezing shut with open-mouthed pleasure. He presses his face into Kravitz’s neck and whines as Kravitz gently takes him to pieces, his grip gradually growing firmer as he feels the hot flush of blood creeping through Taako’s skin. The hitch of Taako’s breathing falls in time with every movement of Kravitz’s hand, hot against Kravitz’s skin. One of Taako’s hands is bunched up in the roots of Kravitz’s hair as though he’s holding on for dear life while the other one scratches at his shoulder blades, urging him on.

Despite Taako’s urgency Kravitz keeps his movements slow and steady, happy to watch Taako’s face crack open as he works him into a frenzy. Eventually, Taako pushes him back, blinking blearily and muttering something about the dress being far too nice to ruin.

Kravitz smiles and steps back, letting Taako wriggle down from his perch on the dresser – the dress drops deliciously to the floor in the process – and Kravitz lets himself be led to the bed, where Taako mercifully divests him of the rest of his clothes.

For a moment all Kravitz wants to do is stare, and so he does, eyes drifting along the length of Taako’s body with undisguised adoration. Taako’s chest is rising and falling like he’s winding down from a sprint, and the flush across it spreads to the tip of his ears as he follows the line of Kravitz’s gaze. Their eyes meet, and Taako’s expression caves into something so soft and vulnerable that Kravitz is afraid the elf may shatter in his hands. “What’cha looking at, Bones?”

“You,” Kravitz answers. He wishes he had kept the scarf handy; instead he presses their foreheads together, one of their usual substitutes. The tips of their noses bump against each other. He can feel the flutter of Taako’s eyelashes as he lets out a shaky breath.

“Wine makes you sappy.”

“It’s not the wine,” Kravitz says. He takes Taako’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilts it up to level Taako’s eyes with his. “It’s you.”

“I love you. Why the fuck did it take me so long to- ? I _love_ you. Shit.” Taako’s hands smooth over Kravitz’s chest as though he’s admiring a work of art. “Like, on the inside I was scared, like, maybe it was all bull, you know, like one day you would wake up and _realise_ , but all this time you _knew_. You just _knew_ I was your – you were just waiting for me to- _Gods_!”

“It’s okay, love.” Kravitz brushes the loose locks of Taako’s hair back from his face. The moment is almost overwhelming, but he grounds himself in the pressure of Taako’s body against his, the eye of the storm. He can’t fall apart when he’s holding them both together, no matter how Taako’s words feel like they’re pulling him to pieces. “This is real.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Taako’s hand slides across his navel, tracing the outline of Kravitz’s muscles. “Like, I fucking love you! What the hell am I supposed to _do?”_

“Taako, I appreciate that you’re having a very serious moment coming to terms with intimacy and what that means, but it’s quite hard to concentrate when you’re…” Kravitz writhes as Taako’s forefinger circles his navel once more before finding the line of his happy trail and following it downwards.

“It’s helping me think,” Taako’s other hand finds Kravitz’s nipple and toys with it thoughtfully. “Should I stop?”

Kravitz’s eyes roll back in his head. “Really can’t do both at once, babe.”

“Okay. Sex now, meltdown later.” Taako leans back until he’s lying flat on his back. Kravitz can’t help but follow, drawn on by Taako’s hands like they’re his lifeline. “If that’s okay with you.”

Kravitz smiles as he presses his answer into Taako’s skin with teeth that nip and suck. Taako wriggles delightedly beneath him, urging Kravitz’s head to where he needs him most. Kravitz is thrilled to oblige.

It doesn’t take long for Taako’s breath to pick up again, and his pleasure manifests in the pull of his hands through Kravitz’s hair, just sharp enough to send a bolt of heat down his spine.

Eventually, Taako catches one of Kravitz’s hands and raises it to his mouth for the second time this night. This time Kravitz doesn’t flinch but stops what he’s doing to watch with wide eyes as Taako takes two of his digits into his mouth and swirls his tongue around them. He releases them with a wet _pop_ , mouth curling into a sharp smile when he sees Kravitz’s expression. 

Kravitz takes initiative, quickly breaking Taako’s smirk apart into a series of high-pitched whines as he teases, toys with him, presses, pushes. Taako scratches his delight into Kravitz’s back in long lines that sting as sweetly as the taste of Taako’s skin.

Kravitz curls his fingers and a shudder wracks Taako’s body, limbs seizing as Kravitz presses against something sensitive. He mutters a stream of curses into Kravitz’s bruising neck, his grip iron-tight. Kravitz takes that as encouragement, pulsing against the spot again and again until Taako pushes him back, panting. “Fuck. I’m going to- Fantasy Jesus Christ. Come here.”

Taako’s breathing like the air has to complete an obstacle course just to escape his lungs, but undeterred in whatever new mission he’s happened upon. “Taako,” Kravitz says with the same tone of voice that he uses when Taako insists on _just one more macaroon_ , knowing full well that Kravitz is a soft touch. “Taako, I can’t, I’m going to…”

Taako skates an impressed glance across Kravitz’s body. “I barely touched you, Bones. Or should I be calling you _Bone_?” Taako’s fingers glance across him, and the arm Kravitz is leaning on to support himself shudders. Kravitz digs his teeth into his bottom lip, not trusting himself to respond while Taako is toying with him in more ways than one.

Taako squeezes and Kravitz sees stars. “I know you can keep your cool, babe. Right?”

_Wrong_ , is the response Kravitz decides to keep to himself. Taako is urging him into place before Kravitz can react, knees planted on either side of his head. Kravitz plants a hand on the headboard to steady himself, because he can see where Taako’s gaze is fixed and he suspects he’s about to need all the balance he can get.

One of Taako’s hands smooth across Kravitz’s thigh, sliding around the back and up, urging Kravitz towards his face. The other tucks a few strands of blonde hair out of the way before taking Kravitz in a firm grip. Taako smooths his hand along him several times before guiding Kravitz into his mouth.

Kravitz shouts, and the cool he’s supposed to be keeping is nothing but a distant memory as Taako’s lips work around him. He’s overwhelmed, burning with the heat Taako is engulfing him with, mind scattered to the abyss of sensation, tight and perfect. Taako’s eyes slide shut and he hums before forcing them open again, meeting Kravitz’s gaze. There’s a scrape of teeth, something that might be a smirk, as he sees the mess that remains of his partner. There’s a glint of challenge behind his eyes as he reaches up to pinch one of Kravitz’s nipples, swallowing hard as he does so.

Kravitz shudders, and his hand flies down to catch in Taako’s hair. He pulls Taako back despite the tremble in his fingers. Taako’s eyes meet his once again, dark and unwavering as he revels in Kravitz’s defeat. Kravitz meets the gaze archly, waits until Taako nudges him back.

He wraps his legs around Kravitz and guides him into him, hand curling around Kravitz’s wrist as though it’s his anchor. His grip tightens as Kravitz moves, and between the heat of Taako around him and the breathy moans that escape his chest, Kravitz just about loses his mind then and there.

He waits until Taako is melting into the mattress before he lets his free hand slide down and take them both in his grip, adjusting his angle as he does so to one which he knows will take Taako over the edge. Taako cries out just as Kravitz does, pressing their foreheads together as he looks up at him. His expression is as open and honest as Kravitz has ever seen it, filled with hope and longing and desperation and more love than Kravitz knows what to do with.

“ _There,”_ Taako whispers urgently, and Kravitz obliges, sliding hot and fast until Taako clenches and spasms around him, his pleasure spilling out of him for what feels like forever.

Then he cups Kravitz’s cheek, looks him in the eyes and tells him to finish, and he does, everything burning away except for Taako’s touch, sweet and rough and perfect.

Kravitz lets himself fall at last, nuzzling into Taako’s side as Taako fumbles for the wand abandoned on the nightstand, magicking their mess away with a wordless flick. His arms slide around Kravitz, still bearing the traces of a tremble, the _good_ kind, and he nuzzles back. Kravitz can feel the smile against his skin.

“What was it you were saying, babe?” Kravitz mumbles. Sleep is creeping up on him, but he’s strong enough to resist, surely.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Taako says, and at last he sounds as though he means it. “I love you. And that’s all there is to it.”

“I love you too,” Kravitz says. He strokes a hand through Taako’s hair, thumbs at his cheek, and just when he thinks he has it beaten, sleep sneaks up behind Kravitz and takes him as it has his soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Notes: A Haiku  
> Oh shit one chap left  
> Hope you guys are excited  
> for true love's first kiss.  
> :3


	11. Destruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beginning and an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've agonised over this last chapter for so long, but I think it's time to bite the bullet.   
> Here we go.
> 
> Content warnings: PDA and death (it's chill tho I swear)

One autumn evening, while sitting on the swing-seat Magnus built for them out on the porch with Taako lying against him, Kravitz comes to a realisation.

Kravitz has lived too long and seen too much to believe in _perfect_. He’s seen too many times how quickly _perfect_ can be swallowed by time. Putting the word in the same space as the one he’s occupying feels too much like tempting fate, yet it wriggles its way out all on its own. _Perfect_.

They’re both in their pyjamas; Kravitz has no cases open and Taako had called off school – _because when you’re the boss, you can do things like that, y’know –_ and they spent the day watching the hours slip by without much concern for the world beyond the picket fence at the end of their front garden. Once upon a time, such inaction would have been unthinkable for Kravitz, always looking toward the next case, the next bounty, the next distraction. Taako is the first person who has been able to reach into his soul and unwind all the tension into a pool of peaceful inertia.

Taako curls into his side while they watch the sun slip below the horizon, his hair loose and tumbling past his shoulders, eyes heavy-lidded like he could fall asleep on Kravitz’s chest. There’s a trail of crumbs around his mouth from the angel cake they had demolished together before falling into a food coma on the front porch. Kravitz settles for brushing them away with the pad of his thumb.

Taako blinks, shivers, and wriggles closer, nose scrunching as he squints in the orange glow of sunset.

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep,” Kravitz murmurs into his hair.

Taako shushes him, eyelashes fluttering. “S’pretty.”

“I didn’t realise elves were solar-powered.”

“You’re funny.” One of Taako’s hands is buried in the fur of the cat at his side. The other slides across Kravitz’s thigh in a reassuring motion.

Kravitz follows his line of sight to the sinking sun, the land below it sucking up the last drops of daylight as it prepares to slumber. There’s a faint wind, not bothersome while they’re still bathed in the warm of day, but bringing with it the promise of a cool night. They should go inside before the warmth leaves them entirely; a problem Kravitz didn’t seem to have before Taako.

As though following Kravitz’s train of thought, Taako’s grip on his leg tightens. “Don’t wanna move.”

And as Kravitz looks at his partner in his arms, a home at their backs and a world at their feet, he comes to his realisation.

“Me neither,” he says. “Never again.”

He means it.

And the realisation is followed by a decision. It’s one a previous Kravitz might have agonised over for days, weeks, months. If there’s one thing his new family has taught him, however, it’s to how to hold on and never let go. Kravitz has never been more sure of a decision in his life.

“Taako,” he says after a moment. “Will you marry me?”

Taako pushes himself up from Kravitz’s chest so that they’re sitting face to face, Taako’s hand still resting on Kravitz’s leg. He studies Kravitz with a careful gaze for a moment that could have lasted forever. Then, like sunlight peeking through the shifting of leaves in the wind, a smile flickers to life across his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

…

Arrangements are made. Friends are summoned. Outrageously extravagant outfits are tailored. Rings are forged, veined with pink tourmaline resin.

Kravitz bows deeply to his Queen. There is only one remaining item on his to-do list, one which can be delayed no longer. The quiet ache in his chest is calmed by his certainty in his decision, but it weighs a little heavier as his Queen bids him to rise.

“My Queen.” Kravitz, courteous of her time as always, is quick to get to the point. “I wish to retire from my position in your retinue.”

He cannot see her face – assuming she has one – through the black lace of her shroud, but he imagines her to be raising an eyebrow. _Are there elements of your role which have begun to displease you, Kravitz?_

Kravitz shakes his head quickly. “I have always been – and will remain forever – honoured to serve at your side.”

This time she doesn’t reply, gesturing instead with an appendage closer to a claw than a hand for him to continue.

“Your majesty, I leave not because my love for you is lost, but because new love has been gained. I wish to marry Taako, and I wish to grow old with him and spend our lives together amongst the mortals of the material plane. I cannot do so as a Reaper. I give my sincerest assurances that Barry and Lup are more than ready to serve as my replacements-” He is silenced by another wave of her hand.

_Kravitz. You have always been my most faithful servant. After your many years of service, the gift of a life with the one you love is one you have earned a thousand times over. You must understand, however, that returning you to life is beyond even my power. Your body may have been prompted to imitate mortal behaviours by virtue of your love for mortal beings, but to truly restore you to life would take a great deal more. An act of unparalleled power._

Kravitz considers her words. The solution trickles into his mind like syrup, slow and sweet. His lips twitch into a less-than-professional smile as he proposes his solution, and when he does, his Queen’s laughter echoes like church bells through the halls of the astral plane.

He receives her blessing, and he gives her in return a wedding invitation, although he knows her visits to the material plane are rare, and never for quite so festive a reason. It’s the thought that counts.

Their garden is decked in flowers of every kind and colour, swaying in the breeze as they line the way to a white-rose arch beneath a white canopy held up by four vine-coated pillars. For once, Kravitz is grateful for Merle’s intervention in their gardening endeavours. No matter how questionable his methods, the outcome is breathtaking.

He is admiring the view when a hand is pressed over his eyes, and everything goes black. “No peeking,” says a familiar voice.

“I couldn’t resist the view,” Kravitz replies, trailing his hand along the length of Taako’s arm but allowing him to keep his hand covering his eyes.

“Well, _this_ view is going to have to wait for the main event. Think you can last that long?”

“Nope.” His hand moves from arm to shoulder to neck until he catches Taako’s face at last and presses his hand against Taako’s eyes in return. “Can you?”

“Are you kidding me? Lup cast a fuckin obscuration spell on my ass cuz she knew I was gonna go snooping. I saw a Kravitz-coloured blob and took a shot in the fuzz.”

“Lup partially blinded you on your wedding day? Is this a traditional part of Maid of Honour duties where you’re from?”

“You know ‘cha boy is a universal exception.”

Kravitz smiles and stoops enough to press his forehead against Taako’s. They both exhale as one. “I do.”

Taako’s hand slides from Kravitz’s eyes, but he keeps them closed anyway. Mortal superstitions have rubbed off on him, aided by a healthy fear of Lup’s wrath. Taako traces a finger down the bridge of Kravitz’s nose before landing softly on his lips like the weight of a promise. “You’re sure this is going to work?” Taako asks. His voice has shrunk in the intervening seconds to something small and vulnerable made for Kravitz’s ears alone. It’s more than a question, Kravitz can hear it in Taako’s voice; the offer of a way out, if Kravitz wants to take it.

He doesn’t.

“I’m sure.” Kravitz catches Taako’s hand in his. “I’m sure of this. I’m sure of us.”

He feels the shudder of tension leaving Taako’s shoulders. “Me too. But if we’re wrong, it’s going to put a real damper on the festivities.”

Kravitz snorts. He spent his entire life fearing the threat of the future hanging over his head. It stopped holding any power of him a long time ago. He has Taako to thank for that.

As their guests arrive, Taako and Kravitz are strong-armed apart by Lup, who fixes Kravitz with a beady glare until he succeeds in convincing her that his eyes had remained closed for the entirety of the encounter. Once Taako has been safely whisked away to help coral Magnus and Merle into wedding-appropriate attire, Barry arrives with one steadying hand on Kravitz’s arm and a glass of something fiery and bittersweet in the other. He seems to sense that Kravitz is in a more contemplative mood and is happy to be the soothing rock at his side as the turbulence of their family’s excitement unfolds around them.

“Almost ready, buddy,” says Barry at last as he slips his stone of farspeech back into his pocket.

As though bidden by a silent voice, the guests turn to the canopy in the centre of the garden and a hush descends.

He sees the back door open, feels Barry’s hand on his shoulder, prepares himself for the short walk to the centre of the garden which may be the most heavily observed walk he’s taken since he took his first steps. The thought of what will meet him at the altar provokes not an ounce of fear, but the trepidation of being subject to the scrutiny of his entire family and then some is enough to lock his body in place.

A murmur of surprise ripples through the garden, and before he can take his first step, a hand falls upon his other shoulder.

“Pardon my interruption,” says a short woman at his side, her features hidden by a long, black veil. “But tradition dictates that my place is here, does it not?”

A slow smile grows across Kravitz’s face. His Queen’s voice may not be the one he’s used to hearing as it reaches him through the subtle glamour of her mortal form, but it’s one he could never forget.

Of course she would be there to give him away.

With his Queen on one arm and Barry on the other, they reach the canopy at the same moment as Taako, Lup and Angus.

Kravitz wants to think something romantic, like how Taako has knocked the air from his lungs, has made his heart stutter, is hitting Kravitz around the head with how beautiful and perfect he is. Kravitz can’t think these things, because Taako’s perfection comes as no surprise to him. The reaction he has to seeing Taako before him at last is the same one he has every morning he wakes up with the elf at his side. The feeling that he’s home.

Lup wraps an arm around her brother and ruffles his hair, her red dress complementing Taako’s elegant green suit perfectly. She says something to Taako in a low voice while Barry shakes Kravitz’s hand. She plants a kiss on Taako’s cheek, and together Lup and Barry take their seats. Angus takes a moment longer to detach from the crushing hug Taako has wrapped him up in, but is soon to join the spectators, beaming a teary, gap-toothed grin at Kravitz as he passes.

His Queen leaves him with a pat on the arm, and Kravitz likes to imagine that beneath the black lace she’s smiling with maternal pride.

At last it’s just the two of them, standing before Merle and ready to say their vows. The fact that Merle is wearing a kilt that’s slightly too short for him does nothing to deter Kravitz’s mood.

Merle opens his mouth, but Taako holds up a hand. “One sec.” He gestures, mumbles a familiar incantation, and Taako’s glamour drops away. He smiles at Kravitz. “Now you know it’s serious, Bones.”

Kravitz searches Taako’s face for the usual hesitance that comes with dropping his glamour but finds nothing but calm assuredness.

“Taako,” he says, momentarily speechless. “You didn’t…”

“Have to, no, but I wanted to.” He takes Kravitz’s hand firmly in his, and Kravitz squeezes automatically in return.

“You look amazing,” Kravitz says quietly. He had momentarily forgotten the crowd around them, but is quickly reminded by a quiet _aaaaaw_ that he’s sure came from Magnus.

“Look who’s talking,” Taako says. To the casual observer it would sound as smooth and snarky as any of his usual retorts, but Kravitz knows better.

Merle clears his throat. “If you two are done being sappy…?”

“Never,” they answer together.

Merle rolls his eyes with equal parts exasperation and fondness, and the ceremony begins.

…

They finish their vows to a quiet accompaniment of sniffling and cheers. Taako slides a ring onto Kravitz’s finger and Kravitz gives him one in return. His touch doesn’t burn against Kravitz’s cool skin like it used to; they’ve reached a thermal equilibrium. Instead Kravitz feels the ridges of his callouses, the tiny scars lining his fingers from decades of cooking mishaps. Kravitz slides his thumb across the warm metal, committing the delicate resin pattern to memory as Taako waves his hand to the audience, beaming as his ring glints in the sunlight.

Once they’ve all settled once more, Merle clears his throat once more.

“Now, I hope you guys know what you’re doing. I may the best healer in the planar system, but if this goes south it’s out of my hands.”

“Hand,” Kravitz corrects. Merle rolls his eyes.

“We know what we’re doing,” says Taako. “We got this.”

Merle looks to Kravitz. Kravitz nods, slow and serene and sure.

“Okay.” He raises his voice “In that case! Taako, Kravitz, I now pronounce you husband and husband. You may now kiss the groom.”

Without a beat of hesitation, Kravitz cups Taako’s face in his hands and leans in.

Their lips meet.

It’s like the last piece of a puzzle slotting into place.

Taako kisses like Kravitz is the beginning and end of his entire universe, warm and fierce, hands bunching in Kravitz’s hair like he’s expecting Kravitz to blow away if he lets go.

_Oh_ , thinks Kravitz.

_Now_ he sees what all the fuss is about.

There might be cheering, but everything else is peripheral to the elf in his arms, the nip of his teeth, the slide of his tongue. It’s their first kiss, but Taako is kissing him like it’s their last.

Minutes, hours, days, weeks later they break apart. Kravitz blinks like it’s his first time seeing. He can’t imagine what kind of expression he’s wearing, but Taako is certainly finding it amusing.

“Good news, babe. You’re still here.”

“Of course I am. Nothing to it,” says Kravitz.

Then things get a little crazy.

There’s some kind of explosion thudding through his chest like a roll of thunder. Kravitz’s hand flies to his heart of his own accord as he gasps, white needle-points of ice slicing through his lungs, it feels like. Every cell of his body comes alive of their own accord, shivers, screams. And the pounding continues, continues, thud, thud, thud-

Kravitz stumbles, and Taako catches him. “Ouch.”

“In and out, Kravitz. In and out,” Taako’s voice fuzzes in and out, and it takes Kravitz a moment to realise what he means, to kickstart the process that stopped being reflex centuries ago. Kravitz sucks in a breath of cool summer air, heavy with the taste of freshly cut grass. He coughs, coughs again, and his respiratory system stutters back to life.

“It’s alive!” Merle yells in a strange accent.

The thud-thud-thud slows, quietens to the steady background beat as his heart remembers what it was made for.

Kravitz closes his eyes and _breathes_. When he opens them again the world is brighter than he ever remembers it being. Noisy. Colourful. Strange. Wonderful.

“You still with us, babe?” Taako’s arms are firm around him, his anchor in the storm.

“Of course,” Kravitz cups Taako’s face again, eyes dropping to his lips. “Always.”

There are few forces in the world powerful enough to bring a Reaper to life, but a soulmate’s kiss is one of them. And yes, with that life shall come a death, but there is no such thing as a beginning without an end. Kravitz’s new life begins with Taako, and the knowledge that it will end with him too is as sweet and comforting as the press of his husband’s lips against his.

They kiss again, and again, and again.

…

The path to Kravitz’s destruction is long and bright and lined with sweet-scented flowers of every colour.

Mortality fits him like an old suit left for centuries at the back of the wardrobe, patiently waiting for the day Kravitz would be ready to wear it once more.

Kravitz always knew a kiss would lead him to his death, but it wasn’t until meeting Taako that he realised that the curse was not a curse at all; it was a gift slipped in the space between true love’s first kiss and true love’s last. Life.

Life passes exactly as Kravitz hopes it will – with Taako, with his family, with love and with each other.

He knows there are some mortals – _other_ mortals – that do everything they can to hide the marks of age when they come, but when they come to Kravitz he wears them like medals of honour. Taako tugs one of his whitened dreads with a teasing grin and Kravitz smooths his fingers over Taako’s age-spotted hands.

Aging is as easy as breathing, after all.

The great-great-great-great grandchild of their first cat passes peacefully in the night, the last of her litter. Taako and Kravitz bury her amongst the tulips out back with her family. Kravitz straightens, wiping his brow and wondering when his knees started aching like this while Taako pats the last of the loose dirt into place. The light catches his wedding ring as he casts a spell, and flowers burst from the patch of earth, pink and purple and blue.

When they’re done, Taako tucks himself into Kravitz’s side like the space was made for him. He presses a kiss to Kravitz’s cheek.

“That’s the last of them.”

Kravitz hums in assent, closing his eyes to feel the sun on his skin as it dips lower in the sky. “Did you call Lup and Barry?”

“No, I thought we’d just surprise them. Hey folks, today’s the day! We’re here to stay!” The years have not softened Taako’s razor-sharp sarcasm.

“Very funny.” Kravitz pauses. “I’m sure we’re forgetting something.”

“Left the keys on the table. Important documents on your desk. Cancelled the paper,” Taako lists.

Kravitz opens his eyes and curses. “Forgot to pay the gardener.”

“I’m sure she won’t mind, considering.”

“She might, but I’ll live with it.”

Taako snorts. He stretches, creaky joints cracking, and holds his hand out. “Ready?”

Kravitz takes Taako’s hand and uses it to pull him in to his chest. “One for the road?”

“You’re getting sappy, old man,” Taako teases. He tilts his head up, and Kravitz meets him with the smooth certainty of a lifetime of practice.

They kiss like it’s their first time.

When they break apart, the sun has set.

With a flick of his hand, Kravitz calls on a magic he has not needed in a long time. The technique isn’t completely lost to him, however, and before them, a door that was not there before swings open. On the other side an endless, shifting sea awaits them. Slow, peaceful, theirs.

It was Taako who brought Kravitz to life, and it’s only right that he should be the one to lead him from it once more. He takes Kravitz by the hand, guiding them towards the doorway with the same quiet confidence he has held in Kravitz over a lifetime together. Kravitz is only too happy to follow; if Taako is his destruction, he doesn’t want to be saved.

Hand in hand, they leave the mortal plane behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends The Path to Destruction, the story of one idiot who wrote sappy fanfic so hard, they made themself cry. To everyone who has liked, commented, shared, subscribed, and everything else: THANK YOU. It has been a blast.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and goodnight!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> Please drop a comment and let me know what you thought. 
> 
> Find me [on tumblr.](https://darkblueboxs.tumblr.com)


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